


The Shrike to your Thorn

by TheHappinessTheory



Category: FF14, FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV, Shadowbringers - Fandom, Stormblood - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Original Character - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut, it will eventually stretch into shadowbringers as well, maybe some fluff if im feeling generous and its in character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHappinessTheory/pseuds/TheHappinessTheory
Summary: Najas joins the Resistance against the empire in Ala Mhigo when she suddenly finds herself falling for her biggest enemy: Zenos Yae Galvus.





	1. Like the Breaking of Glass

Chapter One

Najas waited with Yugiri on a roof in Doma Castle’s town, the night air cool and the sky cloudless. A soft breeze ruffled Najas’s hair as she crouched down, inspecting the shinobi before her. After learning of Zenos’s arrival in Doma and knowing none of them could best him in a fair fight, Yugiri had suggested an ambush – an idea that was quickly shot down by Alisaie and Gosetsu. However, Yugiri would not be swayed from her cause, and Najas, fearing for Yugiri’s life if she were alone, decided to go with her.

Yugiri’s eyes were shrewd as they scanned about the town, waiting for the viceroy’s arrival. Najas could not detect her thoughts, though she wished she could persuade her against this in some way. Though, even if she had her voice, Najas doubted Yugiri would listen.

She had not been there the night Rhalgar’s Reach had attacked. She had not seen the effortless ruthlessness of which Zenos struck down his enemies. Even Najas, who had been boasted to be without equal on the battlefield, had been quickly humiliated by the Garlean Prince. The fight had lasted maybe a minute before he grew bored and rendered her useless until healers had gotten to her.

Thinking about that now, Najas worried for the encounter should Yugiri’s plan go sideways. She only psyched herself up enough by reminding herself that that had been a while ago, and Najas had managed to grow stronger in her own power – even slaying another Eikon along the way.

Yugiri was mastered in patience, yet at this opportunity, Najas could sense a restlessness behind her façade. This was beyond personal to Yugiri. Not only were they in Doma – her homeland, but they were also within the curtain walls of the palace, the place she once guarded her master.

Najas closed her eyes to the silence, enjoying the fleeting quietness she had until it would come crashing down around her. Tonight, she would either be dead, or the Rebellion would be victorious.

“He comes.”

Yugiri’s words snapped her out of her thoughts.

Najas followed the Shinobi’s gaze to the docks, whereupon she noticed Zenos, accompanied by Yotsuyu (whom Najas had a personal grudge against), as well as several other imperial soldiers in their Doman uniforms.

Yugiri looked to Najas, who nodded in confirmation. Yugiri crouched, drawing a dagger, and leaped, disappearing into the night before her eyes. Najas herself kept to the rooftops, staying at the front of the envoy while Yugiri crept at their back.

Najas crouched behind an arch on the roof, looking at the group only several yalms from her on the street below, illuminated by the streetlamps. Her heart was in her throat. Before her was the man who had single-handedly humiliated her – who appeared in her nightmares, striking down her friends with graceful ease as she could do naught but watch.

It seemed they had paused – though Najas was sure they were yet unaware of their presence – and from here she could hear the conversation below.

An Imperial Pilus took the front of the group and was currently facing the Crown Prince. “The village is not far, my lord. If it please you, we shall escort you there directly.”

When Zenos did not immediately respond, the Pilus moved to speak once more when he was suddenly interrupted. “Hmph. Less of a Province than a graveyard. The rotting husk of a broken nation, devoid of any proper sport.” He breathed in a deep sigh. “But as His Radiance wishes.”

The Pilus saluted, stammering on his words in fear. “Y-yes, of course, my lord! A-a-and may I say how _terribly_ sorry we are that you’ve had to come so far!”

He remained silent for a long few more heartbeats – heartbeats where the imperials grew physicaly nervous, even deigning to take a few steps back, as though worried he’d entertain himself with their blood.

Yotsuyu glanced at him through the corners of her eyes, taking a long drag from her pipe before releasing it in a long stream.

“We labored long to sow the seeds of hatred – of fear,” Zenos finally spoke again. “To train them as beasts. Now we shall see the harvest. Let there be savage beasts baying for blood – and not hollowed-eyed prey cowering in the dark. Or this shall be a joyless hunt.”

They continued walking further into the village as Najas retreated from her hiding spot, following them quickly and quietly, staying out of sight as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, unaware of where Yugiri was, but knowing her task was nearing completion upon seeing two lifeless imperials upon the ground – their comrades unaware.

Najas felt a skip in her heart. Maybe this _would_ work. Maybe Yugiri was quick enough.

She caught her out of the corners of her eyes. A flash of purple – her blades aimed for the viceroy when –

Najas’s breath caught.

He countered her blow with a quick and graceful maneuver, sending her leaping back and taking up a defensive position.

“Ambush!” One of the imperial guards shrieked.

“Shinobi?” Yotsuyu demanded. “And me without my brute…”

“How weak you are,” Zenos directed at Yugiri. “Is this the sum of your hate?”

“This is only the beginning,” Yugiri declared. “For lord Kaien, for Doma!”

It was Najas’s turn, now. She leapt from the roof, coming upon the group with it’s back to her. With painfilled shrieks, they both went down by her rapier as the two remaining imperial guards sized up their enemies.

Yotsuyu was in the middle by Zenos, her hand at her chest, both worry and fury shining in her grey eyes.

Zenos turned his head, almost in Najas’s direction, before his gaze stopped on Yotsuyu. “Mayhap I shall test this new sword of yours. Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound.”

Najas’s heart was hammering in her throat. Never before in such a long time had she been so nervous. She had felled Baelsar and his legion, his generals and his alpha Eikon. She had felled countless Primals. She was there with Midgardsommr to hear Nidhogg start the dragonsong war. She had slain Ishgard’s corrupt government, and had helped it rise back up after slaying a centuries old dragon _twice._

But Zenos…. All she could feel in his presence was nervousness. She recalled their last encounter, how he had thrown her into the dirt and called her pathetic as she was helpless to retaliate – too wounded to even spit a retort as he cut down the Rebellion almost single-handedly.

Yugiri needed her _now_ though, and she’d fight with more strength than she had back then.

She eyed the new white-handled blade in Zenos’s sheath, but watched as he drew one of his older two as he turned on Yugiri. “But I am loath to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come. Earn the honor.”

“Najas!” Yugiri yelled.

They both rushed forward at Zenos from opposite sides. Yugiri leapt into the air, daggers at ready, while Najas slid forward, the point of her thin blade ready to slink between the plates of his armour.

Zenos blocked Yugiri’s blade and sidestepped Najas before whirling on her with a sweep of his blade, sending her sliding back through the dirt. She kept back, gesturing to Yugiri, who nodded and retreated a few yalms, throwing her dagger to her.

Najas caught it midair, rushing at Zenos, aimed to strike for his head before she suddenly dove and slid between his legs, throwing the dagger into the air as Yugiri appeared beside it, her weight driving it down to the head of the prince.

He looked up, his sword ready to block the attack as Najas sprung back around in the same moment – her sword aimed for his throat. There was no way he could block both those attacks at once.

Just as her sword might have pierced his neck, there was a sudden burst of energy and both Yugiri and Najas were thrown backwards – Yugiri slamming her back into one of the house’s stone walls.

Gritting her teeth, Najas rushed forwards to distract Zenos as Yugiri recovered the air back into her lungs. She met him head on where he effortlessly countered her blows, his blade meeting hers quickly and precisely. He was rooted but hard to hit as Najas danced around him, quick and nimble. When she fought with this much ferocity, few enemies stood in her way.

“Argh!” Yugiri sprung up behind Zenos, her dagger already swinging for his neck when he suddenly spun out of the way, grabbed her by the back of her collar, and flung her across the clearing.

Najas stepped back, already breathless, and channeled her aether, willing it to give her more speed and strength. She readied herself, meeting his masked gaze, allowing herself to clear her mind before she rushed forward again.

She was quicker now, her attacks a blurring fury as she spun and slashed and riposted and flipped – and then her eyes grew wide and a grin crossed her lips. She felt her sword as she stabbed- its blade tearing along the Garlean steel of his armour.

Just as she was about to go for her second hit, she felt his fist meet her gut, then his foot was at her side, and she was on the ground beside Yugiri, both helping the other get back to her feet.

“Very well, then,” Zenos said, sheathing his blade and retrieving the white-handled one. “You’ve earned the right to gaze upon the glory of Ame-no-habakiri. You will not see it a second time.”

Najas felt her gut sink as she simply _felt_ the aether seeping off the blade. She cast a worried glance at Yugiri whose eyes were glazed with only fury as she ran forward with a scream. It only took one sweep of the blade to send her unconscious on the ground.

Daring to close her mind for just a moment, Najas cleared her mind, focused on her breathing and her heartbeat alone before she took up her battle stance once more. She studied him as they circled each other, he with far more ease and welcomed carelessness than she.

When he grew impatient of their bladeless dance, he came at her, his sword a fury as it took all her effort to parry or dodge his attacks. She flipped over the katana as he swung in a wide arc, managing to land behind him as she swiped her rapier. She thought _maybe_ she landed a hit then countered when he paused. But he turned on her and gripped her by the throat before lifting her from the ground and throwing her next to her fallen comrade.

Gritting her teeth, Najas looked up, getting ready to stand when all she saw was a flash of blue energy before pain engulfed her body and she was face-down on the dirt, gasping and bleeding.

Blinking blood from her eyes and managing only to get to her knees, Najas breathlessly looked to Yugiri, who was unconscious upon the ground still.

“Ah, I remember you – from Ala Mhigo,” said Zenos. “The champion of the savages.”

Najas looked at the blade, swarming with energy, and poised to strike her down for good.

She would not let it end here.

In one last desperate attempt, seconds before his blade was upon her, Najas threw her sword to his head. It flew at his helmet, spinning in a whirlwind flurry, missing the mark of his neck, but taking one of the horns of his helmet with it.

He paused, seeming surprised as he looked upon the ground where the horn lay. He sheathed his sword next and removed his helmet.

It was the first time Najas had seen his face, and she would be loath to admit, but he was probably the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His face was comprised of long, soft features – his skin void of nary a flaw, even a scar. His hair flowed in a glorious mane of silken gold, and his eyes were shimmering sapphires catching the light of a setting sun.

He examined his helmet – and the damage Najas had wrought upon up, his long lashes casting shadows over his high cheekbones. “Ah. How right I was to spare your life.”

Zenos looked back to her, and as their eyes met he suddenly smiled, his eyes narrowed. He cast aside his helmet. “Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between seconds – live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world – live!”

Najas stared at him, unsure of what to think – of what to do. She unsteadily got back to her feet, her gaze locked on his, unaware that Yugiri had gotten back up, only noticing after Zenos, where he was quicker than her, and shot her back with a swipe of his blade.

Yugiri tumbled upon the ground as Najas stumbled one step, clutching her rib which ached, her clothing wet and stained with red under her hand.

“You are not worthy,” Zenos said to Yugiri, his eyes full of disdain.

Najas’s heart sank as he started taking slow footsteps towards Yugiri, his every intent glinting in the blood dripping off the blade. Channeling the last of her aether, Najas healed herself enough to get back to her feet. She raced ahead, blocking Zenos’s path to her.

He met het gaze once more, his eyes blank before he finally smiled again. “If you will not flee, then you will make a fine prize.”

Najas didn’t even see the blow coming. Next thing she knew she was on her back, an excruciating pain roiling through her torso. She struggled to breathe – it felt as though her lungs had collapsed. Her ribs ached with every gasp she inhaled. She tasted blood in her mouth, felt it trickle down her lower lip.

Her vision was blurry, barely allowing her to make out the image of Zenos towering over her before her senses went dark and she lost consciousness. 


	2. All the Fear and the Fire

Najas awoke to a blaring light, her vision blurry as she blinked in attempt to clear it. Sunlight filtered through a window nearby – unbearably bright and blinding. She raised her arm, gritting her teeth against the ache and stiffness that accompanied the movement.

She shifted, realizing she was upon a cot, and as her vision cleared, found herself in an infirmary of sorts. Other cots, all empty, lay in two neat lines around her, each situated underneath a paneless window. By the humidity and the brightness, Najas guessed it had to be perhaps midday.

With a start, she sat up, remembering what had just occurred. Her ribs ached in protest at the sudden movement and she winced, bringing a hand to the wound on her side that she found… bandaged? Najas looked at herself. She had been stripped to her underclothes and tended to by a healer, she supposed, by the speed on which her wounds seemed to have healed.

She removed the bandages, inspecting her ribs, and though still sore, she could safely assume they were not fractured or broken. As for the wound on her side, all that was left was a tender pink strip that would likely scar but –

_Yugiri._

Najas looked around the room, finding no one else here, not even healers.

She swung her legs over the edge of the cot, dread settling in as she realized she did not recognize the room at all. The architecture was definitely Ala Mhigan and not Doman, and she could not recall any place like this the Resistance had seized.

Climbing on the bed and standing on the tips of her toes, Najas gripped the ledge of the window and peered out, her heart immediately sinking in her chest as she beheld the sight before her. Sandstone towers rose all around her, high and thick walls connecting them, and black-armoured imperials marching between them.

She was in the Ala Mhigan palace.

Najas turned away from the window and checked the nightstand by her bed. There was a clean bowl of water and extra bandages, but nothing blunt or sharp. She would have to get out with her fists alone.

Cautiously and quietly, Najas walked towards the door of the room, or therefore lack _of,_ and peered out the arch into the hallway beyond. It stretched off in two different directions and seemed to be lacking for guards or soldiers.

She took a step out, her bare foot pressed against the cool stone was a welcome against the heat, but comforts were the last of her concerns right now. She had to find Yugiri, make sure she was okay, and return to the Scions.

The stone walls were smooth and the ivory banner of Garlemald hung at every interval, in case someone somehow forgot who this fortress belonged to. Couldn’t remember? Oh, right, Garlemald. Forgot again? Just look ahead another five feet.

Hearing voices, Najas pressed her back against the wall and peered around the corner. She spotted maybe five imperials standing in the center of the hallway at the nearest crossroads, seeming uninterested in their surroundings.

Najas looked about, but the only way forward seemed to be through them. She thought of perhaps climbing through a window, but that idea was quickly scrapped when she realized the walls were too smooth to climb.

So, the imperials it was.

She studied them carefully. None looked like high-ranking officers, so banking on their experience and training, Najas gathered she could probably take them all in a fight. But she would also have to be quick. She couldn’t let any of them call for support or raise an alarm.

Najas rushed at them.

One of them noticed her, taking a step back in shock of the sight of her sprinting right for them. “H-hey! Halt-” Najas kicked him straight in the face, sending his helmet flinging off his head and crashing against the wall.

She whirled on her next enemy, dodging the swing of his sword before grabbing his wrist, twisting and pulling, and then bringing her knee up hard into his gut. She dodged out of the way of the next imperial, kiting around him as she grabbed his arm and swung him into the wall.

The no-longer-helmeted imperial charged at her, sword at the ready at he jabbed. Najas danced out of the way, elbowed him in the face, and swept his legs out from under him. Before she could finish him off, the next soldier was on her, grabbing her arms and pulling her back.

She broke out of his grip by digging her heels into the stone and throwing her body weight back, slamming her enemy against the wall. She rushed right at her nearest enemy, giving them a few quick but precise and hard punches to their chest before finishing them off with a strong kick to the center of their chest.

One of the imperials was making a break for it. Najas looked up, wiping her hair from her eyes and booked it for him as the other soldiers chased. With the speed of a Viera, she easily caught up to him, hooked her arm around his neck and swung up on his shoulders before wrapping her legs and grabbing the sides of his jaw.

He attempted to throw her off by slamming himself against the wall, and though Najas gritted her teeth and huffed at the pain, she squeezed her legs around his throat, satisfied at the wheezed that accompanied as she gripped tighter, intending to either suffocate or snap his neck – whichever came first.

The imperial soldier flailed and bucked around like a bull, desperate to throw her off before his allies reached them. To any outside eyes, it might have even looked quite amusing.

“Well, well.” Najas suddenly paused, looking up at the sudden familiar and calm voice coming from the corridor beside them. “Here you are, just out of the infirmary bed and already throwing a spectacle.”

Both she and the imperial paused, turned, and looked at the imposing figure of Zenos in the hall, accompanied once again by Yotsuyu, who took another drag of her pipe as they assessed the scene playing out before them.

The imperial soldier even tried to salute to Zenos as Najas continued to crush his windpipe with her thighs. The imperials behind her lined up and saluted, stiff as statues, and Najas might have done something clever had her human ride not collapsed beneath her.

The sudden drop caused her to yelp in surprise, and she grimaced as her knees slammed into the stone, but she stood back up, taking up her unarmed defensive stance, and studied her opponent.

Zenos was no longer dressed in his Garlean armour – at least not fully. He wore a slimmer, figure-cutting version of it, wearing dark pants and a long white coat that hung around his shoulders almost like a cape, attached by a single golden chain across his chest. All three swords were still at his side, and Najas eyed the weapons carefully.

She thought there had never been a moment where she was more screwed in her life. She was injured, hurting, and unarmed. But a question had pricked at her mind. Why was she here? Why had healers attended to her?

Zenos dropped the rotating sheath at his side, half-consciously handing it to Yotsuyu to set down, who dropped with the weight of it. “Shall we make this fair?” He questioned, a coy smile playing at his lips.

Najas bounced on the tips of her toes, her ribs still screaming in protest. There was little doubt in her mind that she was going to lose this fight, but she would still give it her all. This time she had no allies or friends to worry about. It was just she and him.

She charged forwards, her fists quick and precise. He met her every punch with a block or one of his own, but this time she had his feet moving to match her pace. She flipped to the side, aiming to kick the center of his chest as she had the imperial, but he caught her ankle. She spun out of his grip, using his forearm to propel herself farther.

Lyse had taught her one trick before this all started, and Najas had never used it as it was too risky – but if she could brave it, perhaps she could win this fight. Maybe this time she had a shot.

Within an instant, he was upon her, a wicked smile lighting his lips the whole time. Their dance continued violently down the corridor, leaving Yotsuyu and the soldiers behind. Najas used everything around her to her advantage, vaulting off the walls and springing off the windowsills - anything to get the height advantage.

This time they were even. No weapons and no allies.

He threw her against the wall, but unlike last time where Najas lost her breath, this time she ducked, avoiding the fist the slammed where her face once was, and dove between his legs, springing back up in time to throw her fist at him.

Zenos caught it at the very last second, ilms from his smile.

Najas yanked her hand back, already rearing for another attack that he easily blocked. She flipped and dodged, each of her attacks ferocious, even unlike her attacks during Rhalgar’s Reach or the castle town.

She saw the hit coming straight for her gut and she made no attempt to block it, instead, she readied her aether.

It took the air right out of her and for a moment she had to lean on Zenos’s arm for support. But even gasping, she felt the aether welling within her and she looked up, matching the prince’s wicked grin.

_My turn,_ she thought.

Her smile might have caught him off guard, or maybe out of curiosity he _allowed_ her to land the hit, for she leaped in the air, the aether swarming to her fist as she landed the blow that sent him sliding down the corridor a few yalms.

After a few heartbeats, Zenos lowered his arms and then laughed. “Every day it seems you grow stronger.” His stance seemed too casual for Najas to trust. “But you still have much to learn.”

He was upon her before she realized it. How he was so quick, she was unsure, but Lyse’s trick was not lost upon him. What he had delivered unto her and she had delivered two-fold, he returned the favor even twice as hard.

Her back was pressed against the wall, his hand at her throat, though he was not blocking the passage of air. His smile was coy as he studied her face before his eyes trailed down where they paused on her bloodied lip, before gazing at her exposed neck.

His thumb brushed over her jugular vein, a glint shining in his eyes before he squeezed his hand, almost experimentally. Najas felt the pressure against her throat. Though she could still breathe well enough, she could not move.

She stared at his face, suddenly feeling vulnerable, more in the fact that she only took into account _now_ that she was still in her underclothes. His crystal blue eyes met with hers and they stared at each other for a few silent heartbeats. His gaze was curious, and if she didn’t know any better, she would say he almost looked delighted.

Zenos finally released the pressure on her throat though his fingers still lingered on her flesh for a moment longer before he took a step backwards. Najas slumped against the wall, holding her hurting rib, not daring to take her silver eyes off of him.

She was a mess. Her hair scraggly and falling in front of her face, her lip bleeding from accidentally biting on it when he landed the blow, and her ribs now aching more fiercely from the punches she took.

Zenos, however, save for a single lose strand of hair, which he quickly brushed out of his eyes, looked flawless. Najas hated him for it.

Yotsuyu, followed by the soldiers, finally caught back up with them, padding delicately down the hallway, a cloud of smoke trailing from her lips. Najas thought she could go for a drag right about now.

“Follow me,” Zenos ordered.

At that point, Najas didn’t even try to protest. She knew she had lost that fight and continuing to resist would lead to further pain. She just wondered why he didn’t kill her or stick her in the dungeons. Though, she wondered if that was perhaps where she was being led now.

Though her muscles were sore and it hurt to walk straight and proud, Najas was determined to hang on to the last of her dignity as the Warrior of Light, and stood as straight as she could.

As they walked down the hallway, both she and Yotsuyu exchanged stares. Yotsuyu was obviously disgusted with her lack of clothes and how dirty she was.

Najas pointed to her pipe. 

“No,” Yotsuyu said.

With a quick swipe, Najas had it in her fingers and already had it at her lips, taking a deep drag. When Yotsuyu tried to slap her and take it back, Najas merely caught her wrist and took an even longer drag, breathing in until she thought her lungs might shrivel up, then willingly handed it back to Yotsuyu, staring her right in the eye as she slowly and deliberately released the smoke into her face.

Coughing, Yotsuyu waved away the smoke, her eyes furious. “You filthy savage, you finished it!”

Najas did frown at that. She had intended to steal more drags.

Yet despite doing her upmost best to annoy the Doman emissary, Najas couldn’t help the feeling of dread that was stewing in her stomach. The puff brought her a few minutes of thoughtless, wandering bliss, but as her mind came back to her, so did her fears.

She got a good look at the interior of the palace and its defenses and realized there was no way she was fighting her way out. There had to be most of the XIIth legion within the walls, not to mention the added numbers of the magitek machines as well as all the implemented security measures.

Yet walking around the palace, seeing all the people that looked at her as she passed by – well, she _really_ wished they had at least thrown an infirmary gown on her. She couldn’t help but feel extremely self-conscious around all these strange eyes.

Eventually they stopped by a door – a door that seemed to be like any other, and Zenos cast a look at Najas, eyeing her up and down. His gaze wasn’t lustful or heated as he regarded her, and to his credit, he didn’t look lower than her face again.

“Make sure she is… presentable…” He said to Yotsuyu.

Her eyes widened and eyebrows raised. “M-me, my lord?”

“Yes. With your background I am sure you are quite suited to this task. Think of it as retribution for your failure in Doma.”

Yotsuyu’s eyes cast to the ground in both shame and anger. “Yes, my lord.” With a huff she looked back up at Najas, tightly gripping her wrist. “With me, then.”

Najas only cast one last confused look at Zenos before she was pulled into the room and the door was slammed shut.

Yotsuyu walked forward, mumbling under her breath as she twirled the pipe in her hand. Finally, she stopped by the window, released a huff, and turned back to Najas, studying her carefully. “I don’t know why he has chosen to reward you instead of killing you,” she said. “but most things he does confuses me.”

Najas remained silent, as always.

“Well?” She demanded.

It took Najas a moment to realize she wasn’t waiting on an answer. Instead, her pale, slender finger was pointed to the side, to where a bath lay, water already drawn and steaming. It… surprised her as well.

“Hurry up. Your stench is filling the room.”

Najas walked closer to the tub, wondering if perhaps she could get away with drowning Yotsuyu in it. She knew the Doman envoy was helpless in a fight and they were currently alone. Najas could snap her neck, drown her, stick her own pipe through her chest; and Yotsuyu was aware of all of this too. Zenos did this on purpose, it seemed. To remind her how powerless she was without his backing.

She decided, at least for _now_ that she would not kill Yotsuyu. She also didn’t intend to let her know that, and was content to watch her stand in the corner, a grimace on her painted lips as she clutched her pipe if she’d need have use of a makeshift weapon.

Najas paused, however, noticing the lack of privacy in the room, and frowned.

“Don’t tell me you’re _shy,_ ” Yotsuyu sneered.

Najas knew that Viera were generally unashamed of their bodies – but she had not grown up in the village with her mother. In fact, she was only half Viera. She had grown up with her human father and was taught the ways of social and physical decency.

Yotsuyu huffed in annoyance, but then turned to the window and stared out in boredom.

Still not entirely comfortable, but knowing that was the best she was going to get, Najas stripped off the remainder of her clothes and carefully tested the waters with her toes. It was almost unbearably hot, but she forced herself into the waters anyways.

Taking a deep breath, Najas submerged herself completely, finding the water dirtied with mud and blood when she resurfaced. There was a cloth on the side of the tub that she used to clean her skin – her muscles toned from years of hard training and battle.

She washed her face and her hair, somewhat glad to finally have the chance to give herself a nice clean – though the purposes of it concerned her.

The water was scented, and she exited the bath twenty minutes later spotless and smelling of lavender – though not her favourite scent, she wasn’t about to complain. She wrapped herself in the towel and squeezed the excess water out of her long hair, grateful for the cooling breeze that swept through the window.

“Here, get changed into these.” In Yotsuyu’s hand was a pile of clothing of what seemed to be Garlean fashion. Najas made to pick up her small clothes but Yotsuyu interjected first. “Don’t bother. There’s a fresh pair in here.”

Yotsuyu turned back to the window, having filled the pipe again, and took a decently long drag as Najas got changed. The small clothes were nothing exciting, but they were of a softer fabric than Najas had ever worn before. She was granted a white shirt with cuffed sleeves and a buttoned front as well as a deep red vest that flattered her form. The pants were black, a thick white belt tied around her waist which _could_ have sported her rapier if she had it – and completed with calve-high white boots.

When she was done getting dressed, Yotsuyu turned away from the window and studied her. “It’ll do, I suppose.” She blew a cloud of smoke into Najas’s face, causing her to sniffle and cough, before pushing her down into a chair.

She tried to do her makeup, but Najas didn’t trust her not to shove the brush through her eye, so she did it herself after a quick one-sided argument. Whereas Yotsuyu probably would have applied eyeliner, blush and lipstick, Najas went for her usual look which comprised of her taking the largest brush, the starkest white paint, and painting a large streak of white across her eyes, and then painting her lips the same.

Yotsuyu sighed but said nothing.

Her hair, still damp, she swept over her shoulder, brushed, and called it a day.

She seemed ultimately displeased with Najas’s appearance. “It will have to do. One more thing.” Before Najas could protest, she was suddenly sprayed in the face with a large puff of perfume. It got in her mouth. “To mask your stench.”

Najas gave her a heated glare. With her heightened sense of smell, the perfume itself _was_ the stench. She almost couldn’t bear it, almost spited Yotsuyu by diving back into the tub to rid herself of it.

“Maybe one more…”

Najas grabbed the bottle from Yotsuyu’s hands and stood _very_ close to her, _daring_ her to try again. Yotsuyu, for her part, met her gaze, knowing full well she would not fare well against Najas should she deign to attack her.

She just put down the bottle and walked away, opening the door into the hallway, looking about. Zenos was gone, which surprised her. But then again, she didn’t actually expect him to just _wait_ in the hallway the whole time.

The soldiers were still there, however, and their hands were on their sheathed weapons, ready to draw if Najas tried anything. They seemed to relax only slightly when they realized Najas hadn’t murdered Yotsuyu in the bathing room.

Next, Najas was led into a small room that comprised of a small seating area, a short table, and an empty tea pot she could not use. There were no books or ornaments around the room, simply two chairs, a couch and a table.

She was in that room for quite some time, perhaps a few hours. She was not locked in the room, but two guards were posted outside her doors, and many more roamed the halls. Even with her weapon she doubted she could fight her way out – not with Zenos so close.

Najas passed the time by staring out the window, watching Garlean patrols, and trying to busy her mind by recalling whatever she could from a play she had seen a _long_ time ago. She really only remembered the three funny quotes. Her memories of before she became an adventurer were faint. She couldn’t even recall the original reason why she became one.

It was around sundown when the door to the room was opened, though Najas did not recognize the figure before her. They were Garlean, that much was clear, by the Third Eye gem situated in the center of their forehead. But they wore no military uniform. She wondered if perhaps they were a servant or a butler of some sorts.

“Lady Tilvinus,” the woman said.

Najas’s heart leapt up into her throat. How did they know her last name? Her _real_ last name. She had been going by Ti’loke for so long, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even be called that.

But suddenly… suddenly all of this made sense.

Swallowing nervously, Najas followed the lady out of the room. Even if she could speak, Najas would have been in complete silence the whole way. Her eyes were fixated directly ahead of her, her mind turning with too many thoughts to properly comprehend.

How did he _know?_

Was it that obvious?

The woman stopped in front of two large double doors embedded with gold. Four soldiers stood on either sides of the door, still as statues. The woman did not open the door, instead she bowed and walked away.

Najas just stood there.

One of the soldiers cleared his throat.

Frowning, Najas looked at the imposing door – which she would gladly point out, was _much_ larger than it needed to be. She could guarantee no _giants_ were walking through these halls. But she released a non-audible sigh and twisted the handle, pushing open the door that was somehow rather light.

What she expected inside; she wasn’t sure. It was a dining room – large – with a single gargantuan chandelier made of crystal that spat light around the room like shimmering stars. It was situated above a long oval table that could perhaps sit twenty people, but was set for only two.

At the head of the table sat Zenos, who was already watching her with great curiosity in his eyes. He gestured for her to come closer, and Najas was surprised he wasn’t aiming for a fight. Or maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to fight with dinnerware this time.

Najas looked at the table, at the setting, then back at the crown prince, desperately wracking her mind to try and piece together what it all meant. _Food,_ of course. But would he poison her? No – he wouldn’t derive any joy from that. So why was she here, at a table for dinner and not in a dungeon being tortured for information?

They stared at each other for a long few moments. It seemed their favourite pastimes were either staring or trying to kill the other.

“Will you sit? Or will you continue to gawk there like a lost child?” He questioned.

After thinking about it for a moment, Najas decided to sit.

She examined what was set before her. A single round, porcelain plate, though it was painted with intricate patterns. She had three forks, two spoons, and two knives. She picked one up, examining it. It looked sharp enough to kill if she needed to. She set it back down, casting her gaze along the deep red walls and trimmings, to the dangling crystals of the chandelier above her, then back to Zenos.

“You don’t speak much do you?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Well, better than the dry dribble those of the court bore me with.”

Speaking of the court, she wondered why none of them were here. She started to get the sense that he just _really_ couldn’t stand most people.

She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but her voice was lacking. And he, in turn, would not get his answers or conversation – though she doubted pleasant conversation is what he invited her for.

Najas looked down at her plate – at the food sitting atop it, still steaming and completely foreign to her. She picked up a fork, the _correct_ fork and took a small piece, sniffing it very carefully. No poison, for sure, but it didn’t look Ala Mhigan or Doman.

She finally deigned to eat it.

It was, by far, the most delicious thing she had ever had.

However, her table etiquette did not pass the eyes of the crown prince. His head rested upon his fist, his food untouched, as he continued to watch her. “It seems you still remember the ways of high Garlean society.” She looked at him and he grinned. “Ah, yes. I thought your name was familiar – _Najas_ isn’t terribly common, I’m afraid. And then I remembered a boring controversy of a half-Viera half-Garlean being raised in the Tilvinus house – the child obviously not being born of his wedded wife.” He seemed bored just recalling the gossip. “Julian Sas Tilvinus. That was your father’s name, was it not?”

Najas set down her fork. _Was._ Her father had met her mother on a military tour, and had been with her only a night. Yet – one year later, she appeared upon the doorstep with Najas in her arms. Julian had decided to take her in, though why her mother gave her up was still a mystery to Najas. Her father had raised her as his own heir, but her ears and lack of third eye could not hide her true lineage.

Julian’s wife hated her, and she only _somewhat_ got along with her siblings. Garleans were proud, and even those she shared blood with could not fully look past her short comings.

Yet, despite his wife’s protests, he’d raised her and trained her as he did all his heirs. But Najas had claim to nothing.

Najas Tilvinus was her full name. She did not even have a title, though many that hated her called her Najas Aan Tilvinus – a verbal slap in the face. Then her father died, and any protection she had vanished.

So she left. Either to find somewhere more welcoming, or dreaming of something exciting, she could no longer recall.

But her household had not been without its whispers either. She grew up hearing the gossip of the emperor’s grandson. The prodigy of the sword, and eventually, simply; _the monster._ The man without a battlefield equal, who slew any who got in his path, either for war or for sport.

The whispers ended when she left Garlemald, but she knew even his own people feared him.

Najas gritted her teeth as she tried to speak. There was a pressure against her throat – like a bubble pushing against her vocal cords. It was painful, both psychically and emotionally, but she forced herself to push through it.

“ _Z…_ ” She struggled, both her mind and her throat fighting a war against her desire.

Zenos studied her curiously as she hissed through her teeth.

“ _Z…”_ She hissed again. She could do this. She could _speak._ “ _Zenos.”_

It was the first name, the first _word_ Najas had uttered in seven years since she left Garlemald. It felt as though those two simply syllables took more energy out of her than any battle ever had.

At the head of the table, his thin eyebrows raised, and his eyes glinted mischievously. “So, you do speak.”

Najas turned her head away, angry at herself. She should think of it as a triumph that she finally managed to get a word out. Yet it should have been in front of her friends. It should have been _their_ names on her lips.

Before he asked any more questions, Najas pointed to the scar on her neck, the one he had examined earlier. The wound had damaged her vocal cords, yes, but they had healed. The act itself was mostly what rendered her mute.

“And how did you get it?”

She bared her teeth again. Did he expect her to have an entire damn conversation with her? Speaking in hands, she signed _F U._

He stared at her for a long moment before taking a sip of his drink. “I’m certain your father raised you on better table manners than that.”

Najas couldn’t hide the shock that lit up her face. Her head whipped in his direction, her eyes wide and eyebrows climbing her forehead.

He considered her for a moment before signing; ‘ _You did not think I do not know the language of hands?’_

Najas blinked. And blinked. It had been hell trying to communicate with the Scions. Minfillia had spoken in hands, but she had died. Y’shtola, one of the others, had lost her sight. The only other who spoke in hands was Urianger, but he was away most times. And though other Scions made an effort, their understanding was limited and broken.

‘ _What happened to Yugiri?’_ She demanded.

“You mean the pathetic shinobi? It’s no wonder their lord was struck down before their eyes if those of _her_ skill were protecting him.”

‘ _Is she dead? Did you kill her?’_

“She was a poor player on the board. A pawn. And pawns are meant to be sacrificed.”

Najas stood from the table, the chair legs screeching against the stone floor.

“I did not kill her. Though I cannot promise she did not bleed out in a pool of her own blood.” He suddenly sighed. “But I’m sure your allies got to her in time.” His clear blue eyes met hers once more. “That cannot be said of you, can it?”

Najas took her chair and sat back down. ‘ _What do you want with me?’_

“I already told you. You are the one thing in this pitiful world that provides me with a semblance of joy. I cannot remember the last time any wretch upon the field has offered me resistance. I had been in many battles and yet my armour remained unscathed. I have been bored, _longing_ for a worthy foe – and here you are.”

Najas thought on his words, not daring to break his gaze. It seemed he was an open book. All he truly wanted was a good fight. But what would happen when he grew bored of their battles? He would not keep her around forever, and Najas had little intent of staying here anyway.

“Secondly, I offer you a proposal.”

She tilted her head in curiosity.

“Though sided with the feeble savages, you show exceptional promise. I could take you under my wing and guide you. _Teach_ you. You would return, my elite progeny, leader of your house – Najas Sas Tilvinus.”

If Najas were not mute already, she may very well had been rendered such by his words. For the longest time – since as long as she could remember, that’s all she had wanted. She had wanted to join the military, to rise in the ranks and prove she was just as powerful as any other Garlean. She had wanted to make her father proud, and crush the sneers of the hated under her heel.

But that was seven years ago.

Najas did not need a title to prove her worth.

Steeling her expression, Najas shook her head. ‘ _I will not betray my allies.’_

Zenos’s expression remained unchanged. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, angry, or just uncaring. But he leaned back in his chair and smiled, as though somehow pleased with her answer, though Najas couldn’t imagine why.

‘ _So? Will you throw me in a dungeon? Am I your prisoner?’_

The crown prince seemed amused by that. “No. You can leave whenever you wish.”

His answer startled her. ‘ _I don’t believe you.’_

“I am called many things by those beneath me, but I am not a liar.” He gestured to the door. “If you wish to leave, no one will stop you.”

Najas stared at the door, her heart hammering in her chest. ‘ _Why would you let me leave?’_ She didn’t believe a word he said. But if he was telling the truth…

His smile is what made her believe him in the end. “Because I know you will be back.”


	3. Lily White and Poppy Red

_She would return._ Like _hell_ she would! It seemed not only was the Prince of Garlemald a monster – or no, he was far worse than that. He was _delusional._

Najas almost couldn’t believe her ears. He truly believed that she would return of her own free will. That she needed him as he seemed to need her. Maybe not need – but _want._ Oh, he wanted her alright, he flat out said it himself. He wanted them to fight until they were both breathless – until they had both rendered countless wounds upon the other’s skin. He bayed for the rush of blood and the pumping adrenaline their battle brought him – but Najas wished for none of that.

Yet, regardless of his delusions, he was true to his word.

Zenos did not stop her as she stood from the table and walked to the door. She had turned her back on him, an exceedingly daring move, and had felt the heat of his eyes on her until the doors stood between them. Yet even through the stone walls his presence could be felt.

The soldiers did not try and stop her either as she strolled right past them. They looked at her, some leaning in to whisper in someone’s ear, but none made a move towards her as she walked down the main steps of the palace, clearly heading for the exit. The men even _opened_ the door for her.

Her eyes were calm, but her mind was running at a thousand malms a second. She wondered if it was a trick. It had to be a trick. He was going to be at the gate, waiting for her, ready for another battle that he would win. He would keep her here and taunt her for evermore.

Yet when the gate was in sight, Zenos was not.

She held her breath as she passed, _waiting_ for one of them to turn their weapons on her. And yet… nothing happened. She walked past as though she were one of them.

It was a long walk back to Doma. Her aether was still low after her battle in town, so she had not enough to whisk herself away to the nearest aetheryte. Instead she’d hitched rides from locals that recognized her, either on chocobo or wagon, slowly recovering from her wounds.

When she wasn’t able to get help from locals, she was stuck walking through the unbearable Ala Mhigan sun. Thankfully the outfit she’d been given was less suffocating than her battle wear, but she could not deny the looks in the eyes of those that recognized it as Garlean fashion. Most fled before they realized who she was.

She kept her linkshell in, but she was greeted with only static. The others were too far for her to pick up on their frequency. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she got in contact with them, anyways. It wasn’t like she could speak.

Najas had managed one word, yes, but now her throat seemed determined to keep her silent. Even thinking about it sent a tingle to the scar on her neck, and she felt the phantom pain of the night the wound was inflicted.

She brought her hand to the scar, brows furrowed and frowning. Her thumb brushed over the old wound in way to ease the pain that was only in her mind, when in her thoughts she thought back to the moment in the hallway where Zenos’s thumb had brushed over the scar.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, slapping her own cheeks. Why in the name of Hydaelyn was she thinking about that? He had only moments later wrapped his fingers around her throat for his own curiosity and amusement.

But she couldn’t forget the sensation that ran through her skin at his touch.

Najas blew a huff of air, chiding herself for thinking of such things. She was just confused. The last day had been an exhausting trial.

It was the desert heat, she convinced herself. It was frying her head, that was all.

To her relief, she finally managed to find someone willing to take her all the way to Kugane, as that had also been their destination. It had been a wild game of charades to think of how to convey _Kugane_ and the fact she had no coin to give him in return, but it turned out she had saved his life from imperials, and he was more than willing to repay that debt.

He spoke a lot, making up for Najas’s lack of ability to verbally communicate, though she occasionally nodded or shook her head to convey that she was listening. Though she never learnt his name.

She reached Kugane two days later, tired after having to defend the wagon from monsters with nothing more than her fists. Her aether was still suffering, too. She wondered if it was something the imperials did to her.

Upon waving goodbye to the kind merchant, Najas immediately headed for the Scion’s headquarters in the Doman capitol. Upon entering the building, her legs were immediately attacked by the hugging tackle of Tataru, tears shining in her eyes.

“Najas!” She declared.

Her cry immediately drew attention had her start not, and it wasn’t long before Najas saw the familiar faces of Alisaie, Alphinaud, Lyse, Gosetsu, and Yugiri appears, all closing in to swarm her in the middle of their group hug.

Najas smiled, glad to be back in their warm company, trying not to complain about the pain in her ribs from the pressure of their desperate embrace.

“When you did not come back, we feared the worst!” Lyse exclaimed, her hands tight on Najas’s shoulders. “The villagers came to the rescue. Had it not been for them, Yugiri would be dead.”

Yugiri, at that mention, stepped forward, regret clear in her eyes. “I would have been dead long before, had it not been for Najas.” She stepped in front of the warrior and bowed deeply, surprising Najas. “I owe you a great debt, my friend.”

Quickly recovering from her shock, Najas placed her hand upon Yugiri’s shoulders, smiled, and shook her head. ‘ _You owe me no debt’_ she signed. _‘You’re my friend.’_

Lyse, Alisaie, and Alphinaud all frowned, conveying their interpretations to each other. Najas frowned. Her conversation from two nights ago had been short – and even if it were in the worst company imaginable, it was nice to have conversation someone could understand.

Instead, she signed something far more simple that still got her point across.

“Pray tell,” Alphinaud started. “How you managed to escape? I’ve no doubt of your ability, but… well… we have no idea where you were taken.”

Najas considered him for a moment before mocking placing a crown upon her head.

Several of them took a step back. “The royal palace?” Lyse demanded.

“You escaped the royal palace?” Alisaie questioned in the same tone, her eyes wide and brows raised. “That’s the stronghold of the XIIth! How on earth did you manage that?”

She shook her head. _‘Leave. No.’_

“You… didn’t escape?”

The confusion was clear upon all their faces until the realization hit them, and that shock and confusion only grew tenfold.

“He… Zenos let you go!?” Lyse was at a loss for words, her mouth opening in prompt for her voice, then quickly shutting again when nothing but stumbles came out.

Najas nodded.

Lyse might have well been a blubbering fish for all the good words did.

“Why on earth would he let you _leave?”_ She finally managed.

Najas thinned her lips. This was going to be complicated to relay to them the truth of the situation when they had trouble understanding her. She knew they tried, honest to Hydaelyn tried, but the Speaking of Hands was a complicated language – as it was derived from Garlemald as a military tactic. Not only was the base language not Eorzean, but its based derived from the old Garlean language. A language so old it wasn’t even used in Garlemald anymore. Najas only knew the Speaking of Hands because her father, a high-ranking military officer had taught it to her.

Outside of that, it was also hard to explain Zenos’s motives. They hadn’t encountered him like she had. They didn’t quite understand that his drive was not for the glory of Garlemald – it wasn’t for his crown; it was for the rush of blood in battle.

In the best way that she could, Najas explained _why_ he let her go. Though she neglected to mention entirely the fact he was so sure she would return, as well as the fact that he knew from where she hailed. Not even the Scions knew her true heritage. She’d always been too afraid to fight them, seeing as how at the time she joined the biggest threat to the world was – well, _Garleans._

Afterwards, it never seemed like the right time to tell them. And then, when she finally thought she had the courage, they got pulled into another war with Garlemald, so she just decided to bury her past and never speak of it again.

The crown prince had other ideas, it seemed.

After her butchered explanation, the Scions were quiet in thought.

“That would explain the Garlean get-up,” Alisaie said first. “Can’t say that bought you too many friends on the road.”

Najas grimaced, deciding not to mention the part where a group of Resistance members attacked her, mistaking her for an imperial before realizing who she was. Not to mention all the civilians who either fled at the sight of her or threw themselves upon the ground in hopes that she was merciful.

It pained her. If she had been true-born, would she have become someone who reveled in that sort of power and fear? Her father wasn’t a cruel man, but there was no telling what power could turn someone into.

“I… can’t say I understand his reasoning…” Alphinaud started. “And… might it be anyone else I might find myself suspicious, but…” He shook his head and smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I dare not think of what may have occurred should we have found ourselves in need of a new Primal slayer.”

Najas crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

Alphinaud started. “I- I mean-! That is to say that I am most certainly _thrilled_ you are okay! I – you’re more important than a Primal slayer! You’re the best fighter! No! That’s not how I mean it!”

Done with teasing him, Najas mimicked laughter should her voice have availed her.

Alphinaud sighed in relief, his once-stiff shoulders dropping. Alisaie had a chiding look upon her face, however. “That is why you _think_ before you speak, dear brother.” When her eyes next looked to Najas, she frowned, casting her hand out. “Najas… is your aether okay?”

Najas shrugged, but a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘ _Lyse. Skill punch’._

Lyse clutched her hands close to her chest. “You _used_ it?” Najas nodded. She exchanged a glance with Alisaie. “Najas… there’s a side effect of that skill…”

Najas looked at her, eyebrows raised. She was only mentioning this _now?_

“If your opponent knows about it and if prepared for it – well they can take the aether stored in your attack and deliver it back to you.” Najas knew that part. “But they can also take a heavy sum of your aether with it.”

Najas slapped her forehead. _‘Can I get it back,’_ she impatiently signed, then revised with a simpler version when Lyse struggled.

Lyse grimaced. “Maybe. If they willingly returned it.”

_Because I know you will be back._

If, for naught else, she’d return for her stolen aether.

He also still had her favourite sword.

“Who… did you use it on?”

‘ _Guess’_.

Lyse swore, crossing her arms and looking to the floor in thought. “Your aether will eventually regenerate on its own, but with such a hefty amount stolen, it… might take a while.”

“How long are we talking?” Tataru asked.

“Months… at the best…” Lyse said with a wince.

Alphinaud brought a finger to his chin in thought. “Well this does present a problem. We can’t exactly put the war on hold until Najas naturally regenerates her aether. Nor can we dare her going after Zenos for it. Yet, risking her fighting with such a low amount of stored energy…”

Najas brought a hand to her chest. She mostly fought of her own physical capabilities, but she did turn to her aether to give her the edge on the battlefield – to heal injuries that would have her down for the count, or, when she really felt like it, a large fiery explosion.

She would be noticeably weaker without her aether stores.

Najas had already made up her mind.

“Let’s… not think about this now,” Lyse said. “We have Najas back, she’s safe. We’re _all_ safe. Let’s instead think of our next move. We can’t very well go back to Ala Mhigo right now, but our allies in Doma are few in numbers.”

The Scions next started speaking of plans to perhaps visit the Xaela in the Azim Steppe and gain their support in the war, but Najas’s mind had wandered elsewhere. If the Scions knew her plans, they would not allow her to follow through with them – but Alphinaud was right. They could not wait until her aether naturally regenerated, nor could she perform at her full capabilities without it.

She had never lied to the Scions before – never even _thought_ about lying to them. It was dirty and they trusted her. But this was _for_ them. She couldn’t be the warrior they needed without her full power.

After their conversation, Najas headed to bed even though it was barely midday. The others chalked it up to tiredness from her long journey, but Najas knew she’d have to be at her best to make the trek back to The Fringes where the palace of Ala Mhigo lay.

She felt horrible deceiving the others, but she’d decided she’d leave when they were all resting in preparation for their journey to the Steppe. She’d eventually catch back up with them – they could handle most things on their own. And when Najas returned, she’d be herself again.

_If_ she returned.

Najas couldn’t say Zenos had any plans of letting her walk away a second time, but she had to try. For the Scions, and for the Resistance.

That night, for the first time in a long while, Najas dreamed. She hadn’t dreamt since Midgardsommr cut off her connection to Hydaelyn, but this dream was unlike any the goddess had bestowed upon her before.

_She dreamt she stood in her old manor in Garlemald. It was after the funeral of her father. She wore that long black dress with the lace front, the one Cato had chosen for her – the one that was too restricting; that made it hard to breathe._

_Najas was upon the floor – the feast table flipped over. Nobles watched on in horror but did nothing to help her. Her cheek stung with the slice of Cato’s blade, which was now pointed at her throat. She stared up at him in horror, crying out for help that none would offer her. She was not one of them. She wasn’t even a person in their eyes. They would not lift a finger to help her, even during such a sombre event._

_They just buried one man. What was one more corpse? One which nobody alive cared for?_

_Tears were streaming down Najas’s cheeks, realizing no one would save her._

_She looked in horror into the eyes of the man that stood over her, his sword tipped with the red of her blood, his eyes furious. He yelled something. Najas remembered he yelled something, but she could not remember what it was._

_All she remembered was the sword that plunged into the side of her throat as she screamed – barely missing her jugular – and then those screams were cut silent. She pushed the air from her lungs but her vocal cords did not react._

_She writhed in silence upon the floor as he yanked his sword back. Her hands flew to her throat to staunch the floodgates of blood that had just been thrown wide open. Her blood spilled through her fingers, running down her bare arms and soaking the white carpet beneath her._

_The people around her faded – Cato faded, until she was alone in the darkness screaming in silence and terrified. She had thought she was going to die there in that room surrounded by people who loathed her._

_How could one bleed so much blood and live?_

_Through her tears and the darkness, Najas saw a man standing in front of her. Her heart skipped, fearing it was Cato, raising his sword for the killing strike, but this figure was taller than him, had broader shoulders, and longer, blonder hair._

_Najas reached a hand out in desperation; one covered in her own blood._

_He stood before her, unmoving. Just watching._

_“Save yourself,” the figure said._

_Fear turning into anger, Najas bowed her head and she screamed. She screamed loud enough that the city crumbled around her – that her scream brought low every gloated monument of those who just_ watched. _That her scream withered them all to ash before her._

_The man in front of her smiled, then._

_She was alone among the ash, ashamed of what she’d done. Her wound was healed but her voice could not return. She thought if she’d face her fear it would come back. Instead, her hands were just stained with more blood._

_A familiar sword lay at her side._

Najas woke in a cold sweat, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her breathing was heavy, her limbs shaking. Her hands clamped to her throat, feeling for the bit of soft flesh from where Cato’s sword plunged into her throat.

When she was sure she was okay – that such an old wound hadn’t somehow reopened, she caught her breath and swung her legs over the side of her bed and peered out the window.

It was just past sundown.

It was time for her to go.


	4. The Silver-Eyed Beast

Najas felt guilty leaving the Scions without telling them of her plans, but she couldn’t risk them stopping her. She could only hope she’d be too far ahead of them to follow. She said no goodbyes; she only left a note: _Don’t Follow._

She didn’t even leave by the front door and instead climbed out a window in her room. She had already made arrangements to get back to Ala Mhigo by ship, but the rest of the walk was on her.

Telling Tataru that the Garleans had taken all her coins, which wasn’t a lie, Tataru had handed her a new sack of coins without question, and with it, Najas jogged to the nearest town and stables after docking, and rented the first mount she laid her eyes upon.

Her mind warned against her the whole time. She knew this was a stupid idea, but she didn’t know of any other way. She tried to guilt herself into turning back, telling herself that the Scions would find a simpler and less dangerous solution – but she also knew she had to do this. If not for her aether and not even her sword, then for _herself._

Pushing her mount to its limits, Najas managed to reach the palace after a full day and a half without stopping. Her mount was ready to collapse under her, and though she was tired herself, she pushed through it. She had gone days without sleeping during the dragonsong war – this was nothing.

Avoiding the main gates, as was most likely the smartest option, Najas crept along the cliffs the palace rested within. When she was just out of reach of a watch tower she gathered what was left of her aether and cast it out at the palace.

She harnessed it like a sonar – one that could sense through walls. She closed her eyes and concentrated until she found what she was looking for. _There._ Having a balcony on the room was a defensive mistake, but the Garleans probably didn’t think anyone stupid enough to sneak _into_ their base.

Yet, it also seemed _too_ easy.

Perhaps this was on purpose, since he was apparently expecting her.

Najas didn’t prefer sneaking as Yugiri did, but Najas was adept at it, nonetheless. She liked making a spectacle – to burst through the main gates and display her prowess to her enemies, as she had in the Praetorium. But this time it was the best course _not_ to alert every imperial of her location.

So, as quiet as her voice, Najas climbed the walls using special gear she’d taken from the shinobi storehouse to scale walls her hands and feet could not find the grip for. She snuck past imperial patrols, none the wiser of her presence, avoided magitek security, and eventually found herself hauling herself over the railing of the balcony she spied.

She couldn’t decide if it was good or bad luck it was this easy.

When she had been here earlier, she knew she would never be able to sneak out. So why had it been so easy to sneak in? When she straightened out, she found her answer standing in front of her, his blue eyes gleaming triumphantly.

Najas honestly should have expected to encounter Zenos, in fact, she _knew_ she would. She knew she would, that she _had_ to in order to get her aether back, but she had somehow not prepared for what she would do once she met him again.

Should she take up her battle stance? She still didn’t have her weapon. She should have brought another. A back-up weapon, even if not accustomed to it, was better than no weapon at all. Especially when facing someone as bloodthirsty as Zenos.

Najas suddenly wished she could rewind the last day and a half. This was a bad idea.

Her heart was hammering in her chest – threatening to break through her ribs as she met his gaze, determined not to show her fear.

“And so the moth returns to the flame,” Zenos says.

Najas, stiff as a steel pole, unsure of what to do or how to act, as thought she’d been caught in a horrendous act. Her stance was, however, very clearly defensive. She completely expected him to throw her over the railing.

“You have returned – but for what purpose? Your aether? Your sword?” A smile played at his lips. “No. I think something else drove you back here.”

Najas took a few bold steps into the room, standing straighter and less rigid. She came for her aether, that was it. ‘ _I came for my aether,’_ she told him.

Zenos frowned, but she somehow got the feeling it wasn’t her words that caused his expression to sour. He neared her so quickly that Najas, in surprise, took several steps back. It wasn’t until her back hit a wall that she realized she’d cornered herself.

Najas grit her teeth at her stupidity and looked away. Her heart jumped when she suddenly felt his fingers under her chin, lifting her head to look him in the eye. Najas was taller than most Scions – save for Urianger, but Zenos somehow still towered over her. She didn’t even reach his shoulder. She bared her teeth at him, and he smiled in response.

“Show me, my precious beast, what, exactly, you are willing to do to get your aether back.”

Najas, teeth still bared, slapped his hand away. He took a few steps back to allow her more space as she took up her unarmed combat stance. She _was_ getting her aether back, whether or not she had to rip it from his cold, dead hands. She’d cut the still-beating heart right out of his chest for it.

As though reading her mind, Zenos smiled wickedly. “Ah… that bloodlust in your eyes… is there anything else so pure?”

She _needed_ this. For the Scions. For herself. For all the people counting on her, she could not fail them now.

Najas rushed him, and though she had no aether to fuel her, she fought just as ferociously as before. No – _worse._ He called her a beast, and a beast she had become. She used her nails like claws and would use her teeth, too. There was no mercy in the eyes of a beast, and no mercy in hers.

She was quick, nimble, powerful, and struck with a passion she had never harnessed before in battle.

There was something about him that brought out the primal rage within her – that caused her to dig down to the deepest depths of her soul, until she reached the deepest, blackest pit, then dug deeper. She would dig too deep. She would set the beast trapped within free.

He blocked and parried her every attack, but she was noticeably faring better than any of her battles against him before. Sensing her first opening, Najas whirled on him and elbowed him straight in the center of his forehead, her elbow coming in direct contact with his third eye.

Zenos stumbled back, his eyes wide in surprised and seemed slightly dazed. She dropped to the floor then, and swept the feet right from under him. His back hit the floor with a hard _thud,_ but when he regained his senses, when Najas climbed on top of him, hands ready at his throat and mouth snarling, he _smiled._

He laughed.

“There she is,” he purred, his eyes gleaming. “There is my beast.”

“ _G…give…. B…ack…”_ Najas pushed through the pain in her throat. “ _My… ae…ther…”_

He was still grinning at her, revealing sharp canine teeth. Her snarl suddenly dropped and her eyes went wide when she felt his hand on her thigh. He looked her with great curiosity and intensity, regarding his hand on her leg before meeting her wide gaze.

Regaining herself, Najas grabbed his wrist to pin it to the floor when he suddenly sat up, grabbed her, and flipped her over. She lost her breath when her back hit the floor. She looked up to see his face was _very_ close, close enough that she could scent lemongrass and Garlean steel. His blonde hair fell in a curtain beside her face, obscuring them both from the outside world.

She was breathless for more than one reason.

His blue eyes were like jewels set in a face of carved ivory. Najas tried to look away from his intense gaze, her silver eyes finding his lips instead. She didn’t understand why her heart skipped a beat, so she looked back into that gaze at depthless as the sea.

He leaned in closer and Najas’s breath caught. She felt his nose gently graze the side of her cheek, and the hot air of his breath whisper in her ear, sending tingles down her spine and her stomach in a knot. “Take your aether back, my precious beast.”

She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when she felt the aether rush back into her veins. It felt as though she were renewed in more than energy. She felt born again – but there was something different about her aether now. It wasn’t wholly hers. She felt a piece of _him_ in it.

Zenos drew his head back slightly, but not wholly enough that Najas could not feel the heat radiating off his skin. His hand moved from her wrist, grazing over her skin until his thumb brushed over her chin. If she didn’t know any better, she might almost describe it as _gentle._

“Say my name,” he whispered. “I do so enjoy it coming from your lips.”

Najas didn’t understand why she was amusing this instead of slashing her claws against his face. She didn’t understand what felt like a thousand butterflies in her chest.

She didn’t understand when the word burst from her lips, unhindered by her throat or mind, smooth as flowing milk. “Zenos.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Her lungs felt restricted somehow. She couldn’t get enough breath.

A smirk lit his lips. He lingered for a moment longer before he released her and stood, brushing the long hair out of his face. Najas hated how she remained on the floor a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Zenos turned away from her, heading over too a cabinmate of sorts, and while Najas caught her breath, she took a look around the room, realizing for the first time that this must be his bedroom. It was large, but not exceedingly so. A four-post canopy bed hung with drapes of Garlean ivory sat against the center of the wall to the right, abided on both sides by two night stands, each bearing a few candles of different size of colour.

Behind her was a small seating area consisting of a couch, two seating chairs, a chaise lounge, and a tea table. Behind that were the double doors into the hallway. To the left was a wardrobe, several bookshelves stacked to the brim, and the cabinmate Zenos was currently opening.

Najas dared ignore him to inspect the bookshelves, finding herself wondering what sort of books he was interested in. She only dared turn her back on him because she knew if he wished her dead, he would have snapped her neck on the floor. But he didn’t.

The shelves were stacked with books of various colour and width, some almost comedically large that Najas wondered why they weren’t separated into volumes – while some volumes stretched a couple dozen long. They were mostly history books, some looking very old, others looking new, on Doma, Garlemald, but few on Ala Mhigo. There were Garlean military tactics, books on samurai and war, and she even spotted a few fictional novels pertaining to horror. Najas’s finger stopped along the spine of a certain horror named _The Colours From the Sky._

She was surprised to find it here. Her father used to read it to her as a bedtime story. It was one of her favourites. Horror was a newly rising genre in Garlemald, not one particularly widely liked, but one Najas and her father, Julian, had both immediately taken a liking to.

The novel was about monsters, large and powerful, unlike primals or even gods, but perhaps gods themselves, who could not be looked upon without going mad. For they held the knowledge of the whole universe in their eyes, and no mortal mind could comprehend such vast knowledge.

Beside that novel was one named _For I Cannot Perceive the Shape of You,_ another of her favourites, but which seemed wholly out of place on this bookshelf of military tactics, history, and horror, and did not, in all senses of the word, seem to fit the tastes of the Prince of Garlemald.

Najas chalked it up to being there by accident. It was a romance, and Zenos was the furthest from romantic she’d ever seen in a human being before. Maybe someone placed it on his shelf as a joke and he hadn’t noticed yet.

Yet the most fascinating among the books seemed to be journals centuries old – personal diaries of generals and important historical figures, allowing insight into their deeper minds. Najas had thought most of these books to be lost during war and burnings of libraries.

“Do you enjoy reading?”

Zenos’s voice, suddenly sounding directly behind her, caused Najas to jump like an alerted animal. She even raised her shoulders and clawed her fingers.

He seemed to take small amusement in her reaction. He held his hand out to her, and when Najas looked to see what on earth for, she realized a familiar sword was balanced in his hand.

Her rapier.

The silver gleamed in the candlelight, seeming to have been sharpened and even cleaned since she last used it. Since leaving Garlemald, she had never been parted from her rapier, and holding it in her hand now was a relief she wouldn’t admit.

For a moment she debated shoving it through Zenos’s neck, but for a reason she couldn’t understand, even though she had managed to best him earlier, she attached it to her belt after attuning her aether to it, to making absolutely _sure_ it was hers, and that nothing tricky had been done with it.

Why was he giving her her weapon back?

She looked up at him, but his eyes were on the books, seeming bored as he regarded his collection. As though they didn’t satisfy him. Maybe for one who enjoyed physical activities more, reading was a pastime rarely indulged in.

For Najas, however… Whenever she was promised with even five minutes of solitude, they were spent curled in a corner with her favourite novels. She liked reading the old novels her father used to read her – novels that would have given most children nightmares, especially before bed, but that Najas begged him to read her. Sometimes she’d read to him, or they’d read together.

They had probably read _The Colours From the Sky_ a hundred times over. It came to a point that they didn’t even need the book. They could just recite it to each other.

Standing in front of all these books just reminded Najas how much she missed her father.

And then, with a start, she took a few steps away. It suddenly occurred to her how _casual_ she was being, when not even five minutes ago she’d been prepared to tear out his throat with naught but her own teeth.

She had her sword, she had her aether, what on earth was she still doing here? She should be running far, far away, or trying to plunge the tip of her sword through his heart. And here she was, looking at _books_ with him.

Zenos eyed her as she backed away warily from him, seeming amused by her realization. He was an open book, sure, but it seemed he read her just as easily. Was it this piece of him that was now tainting her aether?

She wished she could plunge her own hand into her chest and rip it out.

“My precious beast…” he said in that low, gravelly voice of his. “Come see me again.”

Najas, backing away, now not daring to put her back to him, shook her head.

He smiled, his voice a rumbling purr. “Oh, but you will.”

His certainty frightened Najas.

She just lept over the balcony railing, taking the same route out of the fortress, found her mount, and just ran.


	5. I Picture You Before Me

Najas’s heart only stopped pumping once she was long gone from the Fringes. Her mind relayed what happened over and over again in her mind. She still felt his phantom touch as his fingers grazed her skin. The way his hand felt on her thigh and how it made her stomach knot in a way she had never felt before. She remembered being surprised at how long his lashes were and how their darkness only amplified the blue in his eyes.

He had smelt of lemongrass and Garlean steel.

He had invaded her mind.

All the times before she’d been able to shake him from her mind, but this time was harder. His presence was larger, especially now that he’d infiltrated her aether. A part of him was somehow there, and she could feel it. Whether it felt like it belonged – or if it felt like an intruder, she couldn’t decide.

He had been certain she’d return, even though he no longer had anything she desired from him. Or… did he? No. Najas shook her head. Of course he didn’t. But she still couldn’t help her thoughts that wandered back to him.

Once the adrenaline was gone, her body started shaking. With the night still long and dark, Najas decided to make camp for the night and give her mount some much more needed rest.

Her sleep was restless, dreams plaguing her mind. But worse than dreams. Memories.

_Najas didn’t clearly remember the day she left Garlemald. It was two weeks after the death of her father, gauze and bandages wrapped around her neck, but she still stood tall and pretty on the arm of the man who did this to her – whom she had to pretend she still loved._

_Cato’s grip was strong on her arm, a grip that would leave bruises for weeks. She didn’t even grimace at the pain. At that point – after losing her father and her voice, of still having to be with the man that took it from her, she turned numb to it all._

_The emperor was throwing a celebration. She didn’t remember what for. Cato, being a high-ranking officer was invited, and he of course wasn’t going without his fiancé. Everyone congratulated them, awkwardly ignoring the fact that it was well-known around the empire that he had been the one to shove his sword through her throat. That even after that, he claimed to love her._

_‘_ I love her, but she is still a half-breed’, _he would say to the other nobles. ‘_ They have to be reminded of that sometimes. She grew too bold with her voice.’ _And the others would_ praise _him for it. Saying how brave he was for openly loving an outsider._

_They told her she should be grateful that he allowed her to keep her status after Julian’s death. Her stepmother had renounced her, after all. Only by the grace of Cato Rem Valinus was she spared the cruel streets._

_Najas had to smile. She was spared the mercy of being forced to tell them how grateful she was due to her lost voice._

_The entire night she fought back fear and tears._

_She harnessed that fear. She turned it into her power._

_Near the end of the night, when she stood by Cato’s side as he spoke with fellow Rems, Najas eyes the sword that hung at his side. She knew it to be a rapier. It was of pure Garlean silver – reinforced with Garlean steel inside._

_Her father had taught her with many weapons, but her favourite had been the rapier. Cato had never let her near one._

_She felt her heart pumping as she stared at it, the adrenaline coursing through her veins._

_She knew she’d never get out alive. But she stared, and stared, until Cato angrily snapped his fingers at her. ‘_ Are you paying attention, woman?’ _He spoke loud enough for even those standing upon the dias of the throne to hear._

_Najas met Cato’s eyes then. His had been a deep shade of brown which she once thought beautiful, she thought now resembled dirt. Dirt upon a cold, bare manor floor upon which he first struck her. She had stared at that dirt, the first of her rage boiling in her gut._

_She grabbed his blade and backed up, regarding it with wonder. She had always been impressed by the skill poured into the intricacy of the blade, and always thought he never deserved it._

_‘_ Hey!’ _Cato shouted again. Any one he had not gained the ear of was now fully paying attention. Even the music had stopped._

_Everyone wanted to see how the half-breed would be reprehended for such an act. Not only was a lower disregarding her superior, but she had taken his sword, the sign of his militant position in the Garlean army._

_Najas had seen her reflection in the sword and had seen Cato nearing her. Her eyes wandered to the crowd and had settled upon a complete stranger. An Aan. She was Doman. Her dark eyes were wide, but Najas could swear she saw the faintest hint of a smile upon your lips. She nodded. As though to say, if you can do it, so can we._

_Perhaps she would die tonight. Perhaps she would be executed then and there, in front of the entire party. They would watch her blood spill on the marble and resume like nothing had happened and they would dance around her corpse. But she wasn’t doing this for them. This was for her._

_Najas raised the sword at Cato._

Her _sword._

_He stopped, his eyes wide with shock before that melted into fury. His hands balled at his sides in rage, his eyes burning with a wrathful fire._

_Najas had thought his expression was interesting. She hadn’t even noticed the gasps flying up from the crowds or the guards that started to near her._

_She just turned an officer’s sword on their owner. She wasn’t sure there was a crime greater._

_Her free hand reached up to the side of her neck, where she could still feel the healing pain of the wound he caused her._

_Najas smiled. And she slashed the rapier across his throat, hitting both jugular veins with precision._

_Nobles screamed – officers drew their swords._

_Cato was upon the ground, choking on his own blood. It welled between his fingers as he writhed upon the floor. Healers ran forward, but without magic, as Garleans couldn’t harness, there was no way of saving him._

_She barely felt the many hands that grabbed her as she smiled, watching the light fade from his eyes. She hoped the last thing he saw was her grin._

_The sword was still clutched in her bloodied hand._

_She had wanted to laugh then – at the feeling of freedom that had suddenly opened before her. Even with guards grabbing her and shoving her forwards, forcing her to drop the blade beside Cato’s body, she had never felt more free._

_She could die in peace._

_Of all the things Najas couldn’t recall from that night had been when she had been dragged through the imperial hallways, nobles gasping and quickly stepping out of her way._

_She smiled the whole way. Even with chains upon her wrists she felt as free as the moth that flew high in the sky. She felt as free as the moth she’d spy and wished she could be._

_They had brought her outside. Of course they wouldn’t sully the palace floors with her dirty blood. They called her many things, even beat her for a minute or two, but they couldn’t take the feeling of freedom she had._

_In all of Najas’s jumbled recollections of that night, her memory always ended there. She couldn’t remember how she got out alive. She had always assumed she’d turned on the guards and ran, laughing at her new freedom._

_But that wasn’t what happened._

_A figure had witnessed the whole event, witnessed the soundless laugh from her bloodied lips as they raised a sword to bring down upon her neck. They raised their hand, and the soldiers stopped, frozen, before turning around and saluting._

_Najas looked up into sapphire-blue eyes. She thought they were a lot like hers. Maybe he thought her eyes were like his, too, for he ordered the guards release her._

_He had knelt down and looked into those eyes. ‘_ You have the eyes of a beast,’ _he had said to her. ‘_ Do not disappoint me.’ _He handed handed her back her blade._

_They untied her shackles, and she stood, still clutching her bloodied sword._

_She had only turned and left Garlemald, never looking back._

Najas awoke in a cold sweat, the memory flooding back into her mind as her dream faded. Her entire body shook, as though recovering from the adrenaline that had coursed through her veins that night.

_I had been right to let you live._

Zenos hadn’t been referring to their battle in Rhalgar’s Reach. No… he remembered her from long before, when he spared her life that night in the palace.

_You have the eyes of a beast._

Najas trembled, suddenly feeling as though she had a headache. This piece of him in her aether… is that what caused her to properly remember that night? Or had her recent encounters with him brought it back from the depths of her memories?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She hadn’t even tried to think about that night in so long. He had returned her sword to her the other night just as he had seven years ago.

_My beast… my precious beast._

Najas took her rapier and held it in her hands, staring at it with furrowed brows. It was a Garlean military sword, special made for Cato, but one he hardly deserved. He had shoved this blade through her throat, and she used it to slice his. She made sure he didn’t get back up, as she had.

She had once loved Cato. She thought he loved her, too. But she found out too late that he only wanted to use her. He wanted others to think how _kind_ he was for giving her such social standing. He liked to lord over her; to constantly reminder her of his _kindness._

He wanted a trophy.

Cato had made the dangerous mistake of thinking she was submissive. That she would just accept her lot in life. That she would be somehow _grateful_ to him, for loving a _half-breed_ like her.

Najas stood, shaking the thoughts from her head. Thinking back on that now did nothing to help her. She had her aether and her sword back – all she needed to do now was get back to the Scions in the Azim Steppe.

She huffed. That was a long journey.

*

With her aether back, the journey wasn’t too difficult. She teleported to the closest aetheryte she had attuned to near the Steppe and walked from there.

It turned out they had waited a day before setting off without her, so Najas was able to catch up with her fellow Scions before they reached Xaela territory. Which was fortunate for her, as she wasn’t equipped to deal with their foreign customs without her friends.

“Keep sneaking off to your death like that and I’ll stop being relieved when you come back alive!” Lyse exclaimed after embracing her.

“Did you get it back?” Alisaie asked more importantly.

Najas grinned, tapping the hilt of her rapier before raising her hand and sparking a small flame.

“By the gods… how did you manage that?”

Najas punched her palm and smirked.

“Did you at least kill the bastard?” Lyse added.

Najas smiled, excited to see the looks on their faces. “ _Sadly… n..o…”_

The Scions took a step back, their eyebrows competing to see whose could climb higher upon their foreheads. She revelled in their expressions. All of them had thought her completely mute as she hadn’t managed a sound since that night in Garlemald.

Her voice was still rough and her throat was still sore after every attempt, but there was no longer that blocker on her mind. Her struggles were only physical.

“Najas, you… you spoke!”

Najas nodded, knowing it would be a while before she’d manage more words again.

Alisaie smirked. “Who knew kicking that bastard’s ass was so therapeutic?”

“It’s good to have you back, Najas,” Lyse said, grinning. “But perhaps next time don’t pull a Yugiri and go running off on your own?”

Yugiri took a step back, but everyone else allowed a laugh or a chuckle.

Najas pumped her fists together. It was time to find Lord Hien, and obtain the alliance of the Xaela.


	6. Red as Roses

Despite the ups and down of the Steppe, her friends being captured and being forced to compete in the Nadaam, Najas had to admit it was her most carefree week since arriving in Gyr Albania.

They had arrived, quickly searching for and finding lord Hien atop a hill, where they explained that he need not wait any longer. The Doman people wished to rebel against their Garlean oppressors. One burden was lifted from his shoulders at that – and a new one added. Now he knew his people wished to rebel – but now he must lead them into war.

He was unlike Najas had expected. A docile Hyur man who had a kind voice but was rough when necessary. It seemed Gosetsu and Yugiri relit the fire of resistance that rest within him.

They had then approached the Xaela people – three tribes that rested within the Steppe, unoppressed by Garleans. Not due to winning any wars, but because the Xaela people were extremely out of the way, and they kept to their own and their home. The Garleans were content to let them be, as they worshipped no primals, so long as the Xaela people kept to their Steppe.

Lyse and Hien had been seized by the Dotharl, as they called themselves, forced into dungeon cells until they proved their worth in the Naadam. They fought for the Mol tribe, a small tribe of feeble warriors whom had never won the Naadam, and had never placed their own Khagan upon the Dawn Throne, but promised to lend the Xaela to their cause should Najas and her allies fight for them and win.

The Naadam, a yearly ritual of all-out-war combat was held to see if the current Khagan would be replaced or keep his throne. That battle of the Naadam had to be her favourite day.

Above her, the sun was bright and shining and the sky cloudless. She swept from one end of the battlefield to the other, jubilant and full of energy. Every enemy fell before her feet, and though killing was allowed during the Naadam and even welcomed, Najas spared as many warriors of the Dotharl as she could.

She felt renewed in energy and in purpose as she danced across the battlefield, one enemy after another falling to her feet until she was called to the center where she would win the war for the Mol. Where she would _technically_ become their Khagan until Cirina took over once she left.

Her battle with both Magnai and Saadu, leaders of their respective tribes, was fierce and exciting, but Najas ultimately stood victor in the end, standing upon the sacred soil of the Steppe, claiming every Xaela under her command.

The Scions congratulated Najas, praising her on her new vigour in battle. Hien even dared call her terrifying in battle. Najas couldn’t help but smile and laugh at that.

However, it wasn’t long until they were ambushed by imperial soldiers led by a Roegadyn man who seemed to have a hard-on for killing Najas. She didn’t even recall his name, but he graced her by calling her his arch nemesis. She didn’t think he deserved to call her that.

It seemed Yotsuyu’s right hand man had finally been given permission to kill her after they embarrassed her in Doma. But if she thought a single officer with a few soldiers and one shiny new magitek machine would do her in, Yotsuyu was poorly mistaken.

Najas, newly appointed Khagan, ordered the Xaela – the might of all three fully gathered tribes to attack their enemies. Grynewaht and his measly five officers hadn’t stood a chance against her and definitely not the combined might of her new allies.

They slew the imperials, sending Grynewaht, sole survivor, just as last time, running for the hills in a pathetic display.

Scions and Xaela alike cheered in their victory, in the Naadam, and in their newfound allies. The Xaela had pledged their allegiance to Hien and his war in the end. They cared not for the affairs of men and their politics, but the Dotharl lived for battle. _“In battle do our sours burn bright!”_ As Saadu had said.

Maybe she had a point. Lately Najas noticed, though she did love reading a book in peaceful silence, she also lived for the moments of battle. The Naadam only reminded her how much she loved it – how her very soul felt as though on fire.

The Scions celebrated that night, raising glasses in victory, and for the first time in a long time, Najas allowed herself to be carefree. To allow her senses and defences to drop as she toasted with her friends.

She didn’t get drunk. Not like Alphainaud accidentally had, but she allowed herself to get tipsy. Najas laughed with them over stupid jokes and some things that didn’t even make sense upon sober reflection, but she enjoyed her night with them.

Near the end, she had snuck off to a hill on the outskirts of town to look at the stars. They were uncannily clear and bright in the Steppe, and Najas spotted constellations she hadn’t seen since leaving Garlemald.

It wasn’t long before her Scion companions found her again and joined her in the grass. Together, they stared at the stars and fell asleep on the hill.

*

It wasn’t a long ride back to Doma, but it felt like it. The Steppe had been a welcome reprieve to Najas, and now that they were returning and talking of war, she felt that weight once again. Still, even with the return of Hien and their new allies, Najas knew it would be a week or even more before their assault on Yotsuyu.

They would crush the Garleans in Doma before moving on to Ala Mhigo.

What had been estimated as a week turned out to be much longer. Not only did all the Xaela have to arrive from the Steppe, but they also needed the gathered fleet of the Confederacy, and Lyse needed to spend many days making many speeches in the towns all over Doma, rallying them to their cause.

There was surprisingly little for Najas to do during the preparations, save make sure she was in top fighting shape. When she disappeared for long periods of times, the Scions usually assumed she was in her home in the Lavender Beds, or lately in Kugane. And for the first few days, Najas was. She wandered around the city with little destination in mind, but where she usually looked at down time like this to relax her mind, her mind refused to allow her to.

Najas wandered past stalls of merchants selling their wares – one hosting an incredible display of samurai swords, and Najas stared at them for a long while, wondering if _he_ would find any of them interesting. She couldn’t attest to their ability to hold in battle, but they looked nice.

When she tried to read, she couldn’t comprehend more than two sentences wondering if _he_ would like the book she was _trying_ to read.

She didn’t understand this. He was her _enemy_ , so why were these strange feelings bubbling up inside her chest. Why did he infiltrate her mind so? She had watched him cut down the Ala Mhigan Resistance before her very eyes – had witnessed him ready to murder Yugiri without a thought, and yet… and yet… When she thought of him she didn’t feel hatred. Instead when she imagined him, her heart skipped.

Thinking of his touch sent her cheeks blooming and those butterflies free.

She was crazy, she decided. Yes, she must be crazy. She had feelings for her greatest foe – feelings that weren’t loathing. There had to be something wrong with her.

_I’m just confused,_ she told herself. _Yes, I’m just confused._

She slammed her book shut after trying to read the same paragraph several times over and failing to comprehend any words. She’d fix this. She’d see him again – prove to herself that there was nothing about him to lo- she dared not even think of the word. Nothing about him to even _like._ He was a deplorable monster. She’d remind herself of that.

Yet not even the Warrior of Light could confront a monster in her pajamas. She quickly got changed, swapping her usual gear for something lighter to brave the Ala Mhigan heat. She had to psyche herself up in the mirror before she went, slapping her cheeks and bouncing on the tips of her toes. She did one last check to make sure her hair was okay then teleported to the Fringes.

The blast of cold shocked her. She forgot about the time differences between Gridania and Ala Mhigo. Yet she couldn’t teleport back now. Transferring such a long distance took up a lot of aether, and it would be an hour or two before she could regenerate enough to go back, and she couldn’t wait.

Braving the cold and the goosebumps that prickled her skin, Najas grabbed her mount she kept stabled in the fortress and rode out before anyone recognized or saw her. She zoomed past patrols too quickly for them to catch a glimpse of her face, and made right for the palace in the distance.

Gods… what was she doing?

She _had_ to be insane if she was even debating this, let alone intent on going through with it. Every sane part of her mind that was left screamed at her to stop now and turn back before it was too late, but she knew she couldn’t keep going on like this.

Najas would confront him. She’d rip out that part of his aether that coiled inside her, as though beckoning her closer. Najas grit her teeth, urging her mount to ride quicker.

She stopped at the usual place, dismounting and going the rest of the way on foot. The palace had tighter security, yet it seemed her path to the balcony had been woefully overlooked. On purpose. He was expecting her.

Najas rolled her eyes. _Of course_ he was expecting her. He always expected her to return. But this time wasn’t like the others. She eyed the rapier on her side as she hung below a parapet, waiting for a patrol to pass by.

Yes, this time was different.

Once she’d reminded herself of how cruel a man he was, then she’d plunge her sword through his ice heart. The Scions would take down Yotsuyu with much more ease once Zenos was out of the way.

Once the patrol passed, Najas climbed up on to the wall, taking the same path she had last time, using the climbing gear she’d stolen to scale the smooth walls. Determination pumped through her veins as she leapt from one ledge to the other, her ultimate goal playing in her mind on a loop.

She imagined the moment her needle-like sword would piece his chest. She couldn’t decide if he’d smile or if he would be surprised she’d bested him. He would fall. His long hair would obscure those beautiful blue eyes – blood would drip from his soft lips.

Maybe he would say her name in his final moments.

With a quiet grunt, Najas hauled herself over the stone railing, immediately readying herself. Last time, Zenos had been prepared for her, knowing she would come from the balcony, yet he was not waiting this time.

For a moment Najas wondered if he was even _here._ It was folly to think that he’d just be here, waiting for her, for whenever she decided to show up again. Maybe he was out on a mission, terrorizing the locals. That seemed to be his favourite pastime.

Najas walked farther into the room, her posture relaxing slightly. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her halted, her body relaxing, as though relieved that she wouldn’t actually have to confront him.

She didn’t know whether to be glad he wasn’t here, or upset. She needed this to _end._ So that she could think on the battles ahead and not stupid things, like if he’d like a _sword. Gods…_

After Cato, she had sworn herself off of liking _anybody._ People only pretended to be what you wanted them to be. It was only after they trapped you that they revealed who they really were. Only after it was too late.

She had loved Cato once. She had imagined spending the rest of her life with him content in Garlemald. But one day he had grown angry and struck her. He apologized, crying, saying he’d never do it again. She believed him – until he _had_ done it again.

Until she was too afraid to leave.

Until he had plunged his sword through her throat.

Najas sighed, releasing a long and shaking breath that had been gathering in her chest for a while. She turned around, ready to leave, when she suddenly heard the door open behind her. She froze, caught like a complete fool.

She heard one calculated footstep after the other – the door closing, and the distinct sound of the lock being turned. Najas swallowed. That bundle of nerves she had pushed down suddenly sprung right back upon her, like an ambush of those ridiculously oversized crabs in Costa Del Sol.

Heart in her throat, Najas slowly turned to see Zenos standing in front of her. He wore his armour, formidable and only reminding her how _small_ she was compared to him. Najas had never considered herself small in her life! And yet, it was the only proper comparison she could make.

Now was her chance. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of grabbing her sword. She’d have to be lightning quick to surprise him. His chest was well guarded with the armour, but his neck was still vulnerable.

_Now!_ She screamed in her mind, almost pleading with herself. _Do it now!_

Yet her arm did not obey her.

She stared up at him, losing herself in the blue of his eyes. What had to be only seconds since she met his gaze felt like an eternity. She felt as though she were drowning in the blue, being capsized by his stare.

And she didn’t want to be rescued.

Najas opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t sure _what. I’ve come to kill you!_ Was a great conversation starter. Mayhap, _Pray, tell me of all the times you’ve enjoyed hunting locals so I can get you out of my mind!_ Also seemed polite.

Zenos smirked at her. “You don’t know why you’ve come.”

Najas was slightly taken aback. She knew the very reason why she’d come! Her arm felt mechanic as it moved stiffly to her side, her hand, somehow feeling too heavy, resting on her sword.

He followed her hand as it gripped the rapier, yet didn’t pull it from it’s sheath. Her arm felt weighed down by a thousand stones. He made no move to stop her or even defend himself, he simply watched with a wicked glint in his eyes.

It was almost enough to drive her anger and pull her sword from her sheath.

_Do it, you coward!_ She screamed at herself.

He leaned in forward, causing her breath to hitch as his fingers took her chin. “I know what you want,” he whispered. “You want to plunge that sword into my heart. You want to watch me bleed out upon the ground, consumed in pleasure by your bloodlust. You want to do it with your own two hands – to take the life from me yourself and not with an unworthy toy.” Najas’s heart was thumping at a thousand malms a second, her eyes wide. Zenos’s head tilted to the side. “And yet you can’t. Because you know it will be the end. There will be no more rush of adrenaline. No more sleepless nights. Your mind will be empty, and you can’t bare the thought of that.”

Najas had no response to give. She tried to push down the butterflies that fluttered in her chest, but every attempt seemed to make them worse.

“I know this because I am the same. I cannot kill you because then there would be nothing enjoyable left in this world.” He frowned then, his fingers moving from her chin to her neck, where they brushed over the scar. His touch sent a shudder through her skin. She watched as he eyed her throat, as though imagining his hand wrapped around it, squeezing the life from her. Then his eyes found her again. “You and I are very alike, my beast.”

He leaned in then, as though to kiss her. Najas hated how she held her breath – the way every part of her body seemed to stop in anticipation. Her heart skipped, her chest settled, and time seemed to stop. But he pulled away before their lips met.

“How easily you are ready to give into me,” he said.

Najas felt incredibly embarrassed and stupid. Why would he _kiss_ her? He just admitted to wanting to _kill_ her. That should have been enough to convince herself of what a horrible person she was, and yet she couldn’t help but feel _disappointed._

She was turning herself into a complete fool. He would never take her seriously upon the battlefield after that. And though she tried to play it off, there was no denying the bright shade of pink her cheeks had turned at his proximity.

Zenos turned away from her, disappearing into a side room and leaving her to her own devices. She stood in the same spot for a long while, willing her heart to calm and her mind to make smarter choices.

If she was _truly_ smart, she’d be gone by the time he returned.

Yet… she came here for a purpose. Yes, a purpose. She wasn’t leaving until she accomplished that, even if she had to make a fool of herself for it. She’d be defiant of him until the end. She’d accomplish her purpose.

Najas forced herself to take a few steps forward into the room. Her joints felt stiff – like an old Allagan machine that hadn’t been used in centuries. Eventually she found her smoothness, but it wasn’t until she’d crossed half the room. She wasn’t even sure what her intended purpose of destination was.

She stopped by the bookshelf, pretending to be busied in the titles when Zenos returned. He was wearing an outfit similar to their encounter in the palace halls, albeit a simpler version that did not accommodate any armour.

Without even looking at her he crossed the room at sat on the couch, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Oh, _that_ was a taunt.

His chest was unprotected, and his eyes were closed. He was _daring_ her to take the opportunity, and at the same time mocking her for not taking it. But she grinned, she could play his game, too.

Here she was, in the center of her enemy’s territory – within his own halls nonetheless. And had he called any guards on her? Had he attacked her or had her imprisoned? No. Here she was, free as a moth, able to simply leave if she wished.

He played this against her, but she wasn’t clueless to him.

Grabbing a book, chest filled with defiance, Najas pointedly sat upon the couch beside him. Maybe she could be nothing more than a thorn in his side, but godsdamn it, she’d be sure that sucker was a tough one to get out.

She opened the book, content when she saw the faint smile that crossed his lips, especially once she laid her sword upon the table before her. Now she was also unprotected and weaponless. It was anyone’s game.

In hindsight, _For I cannot Perceive the Shape of You_ might have been a bad choice in leu of her ultimate goal here. She may be playing his game now, but she did not intent to leave without, in the end, shoving her sword through his exposed heart.

Yet, she soon found herself frustrated. She was having the same problem as back in Kugane. She couldn’t get more than two sentences in without her eyes shifting from the novel over to where he sat, head still back, his hair cascading over the back of the couch, and eyes closed.

He looked so vulnerable, which she thought so strange. He was no less a man than her, but she found it impossible to imagine him doing tasks every living being required; like resting. She just assumed he had a never-ending storage of energy – that he could go as long as an Allagan machine.

Maybe in some part of her mind she convinced herself he wasn’t human. That he did not need sleep or food or drink. That he did not enjoy anything but hunting. That he couldn’t be vulnerable.

Her eyes wandered from his face to the steady rise and fall of his chest, rhythmic and soothing. She felt her own tension fading, her shoulders relaxing from their stiff posture. He seemed utterly and completely relaxed, and that seemed _absurd_ to her.

Najas shifted closer slightly, watching carefully for any signs that, despite his closed eyes, he was still paying close attention to her. She watched for any stiffness or twitching muscles, but to his credit, he just _didn’t care._

She wasn’t sure why, but that made her slightly angry. She was his greatest enemy. And yet she knew if she were to take her rapier from the table and point it at him, to press it to his chest or his neck, he’d just smile at her, not even bothering to open his eyes because he knew she wouldn’t go through with it.

Najas set her book down, angry and perplexed. Was his goal to just taunt her all night? She raised her hand to – she didn’t know what. Her fingers paused, ilms from his face before, without even thinking about it, she found her fingers sliding through his hair. She had always wondered what it would feel like.

A deep rumble released from his throat, almost like a purr, the only acknowledgement to her actions. That sound sent her butterflies active again and she shifted slightly, running both fingers through his mane of hair, silky smooth and not a knot to be found.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but found herself entranced in the task.

Wait – what _was_ she doing? He was her enemy! She should be trying to kill him, not… whatever it was she was doing now.

She pulled her hands away, but before she had even gotten too far, his hand caught her wrist. His eyes blinked open lazily, finding her not too far from him. “Did I tell you to stop?”

Najas considered him, but then let her free hand fall to her side, and tilted her head as though to taunt him. He gave her a sharp smile in return, and, still gripping her wrist, placed his other hand on her shoulder and pushed her on her back.

She felt those butterflies start restlessly, but she pushed them down.

Zenos climbed on top of her, his hair cascading on either side of them. “Do you defy me, my beast?” he questioned, both hands still pinning her to the couch.

She stared into those depthless blues, as wild and raging as the Limsan seas, their waves too cruel and high to survive. But Najas looked at those untamed waters and she returned his smile.

He released a deep chuckle. “Good.” He lingered for a moment longer, regarding her pinned beneath him before he sat back up. “Let’s go on a hunt.”

Najas, after lingering for a moment, unsure of why she suddenly felt disappointed, sat up as well. ‘ _A hunt?’_ she signed.

He was already standing, making his way to his sheathed weapons which sat upon the floor near the door. He paused, his hand gripping the doorknob, and looked at Najas, who was still sitting on the couch in confusion. “Are you coming?”

With a start, Najas grabbed her rapier from off the table and joined him as he opened the door. There were two guards posted outside his doors, though she didn’t think Zenos of all people needed _guards._ It didn’t even cross her mind what it might look like to the imperials to see her back in the palace, exiting the prince’s _bedroom._

“My… my lord, are you leaving?” One of them stammered after saluting. Najas could feel his confused eyes burning on her.

Zenos didn’t even bother answering them, he just kept walking.

“Uh, allow me, my lord, to fetch a squadron to accompany you! The Resistance is-”

“No,” he said. He sounded bored.

“No?” The Pilus sounded confused and worried.

Zenos didn’t elaborate. He simply turned the corner, leaving the Pilus alone to his confusion. Najas stayed in tow beside him, though his longer legs allowed for more graceful, longer strides, and Najas had to keep a more frantic pace to keep up with him. Usually it was her slowing down for other people, not struggling to keep up.

She looked at him then, his eyes which betrayed no hint of what he was thinking, and gently touched his forearm to grab his attention.

“Hm?”

‘ _What are we hunting?’_ She signed.

“You shall see.”

‘ _Is it civilians?’_ Najas couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

His eyes glimmered at that. “I find they make poor sport. Unless, of course, you wish to.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes gleaming with the question.

Najas could describe her expression as no more than affronted.

“I thought not.” He looked back ahead.

‘ _Then what are we hunting?’_

“You shall see.”

Najas wasn’t a fan of surprises. Surprises usually meant an ambush in her line of work. But for some reason – whatever stupid reason she came here in the first place, she trusted him. If only for the fact that she knew he wouldn’t kill her or imprison her, because then he would be bored.

She wasn’t sure what constituted as a _hunt_ in Zenos’s eyes, as he looked at war itself as a great hunt, so all she knew, whatever they were going to face, was going to be tough.

They walked through the palace in silence, past the entire legion of the XIIth and all its magitek machine prowess. When seeing their lord without an accompanying party, many tried to follow, but all it took was a wave of the hand from Zenos, and they returned to their tasks.

Najas wasn’t quite sure why she felt so calm and relaxed in Zenos’s presence. She had come here intending to plunge her sword through his heart, and now here she was, walking right by his side, off to a hunt.

She felt… invigorated. She felt an excitement she hadn’t felt in a long while.

They exited the palace of Ala Mhigo and, alone, took to the wilder lands of the Fringes. When she felt the cool wind against her skin, Najas suddenly wished, once again, that she had chosen something to brave the nights and not the days.

Her eyebrows raised when she felt a new weight upon her shoulders, and looked down to find Zenos’s coat upon her shoulders. She looked up at him, but he wasn’t even looking at her. It was definitely too big for her, but she bunched it tighter around herself, slipping her arms through the too-long sleeves. Hiding her face behind the popped collar, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips.

They walked on in silence for a good hour until they came upon some old ruins stashed away in the corners of the Fringes. Not was left of it, save a near-crumbling tower and broken walls. And, upon the very peak of the tower, Najas could see something large, barely silhouetted by the moonlight. It shifted, allowing Najas only a hint of its size.

Ah. So a _real_ hunt.

Najas used to take contracts out on creatures like this when she wasn’t busy fighting wars. But she usually had to team up with a squadron of other hunters to take down something of _this_ size. She was sure the Hunting Clan would classify this beast as an S Class.

Zenos already had his hand on the handle of one of his three katanas. “Bring it down, would you?”

Najas bunched up the sleeves of his coat and grabbed her rapier, taking the focus that rested on its handle into her hand. She held her rapier like a staff, the focus at the top and the point of her sword towards the ground. She took a step back, rooting her feet as she looked up at the bundle of black resting atop the tower.

Closing her eyes and focusing her aether, Najas pooled it into her focus, then, with a burst, shot a flaming ball of fire at the creature.

It exploded into the night, causing a shrill shriek to rip through the air as the creature got to its feet and swooped over their heads, revealing itself at a griffin black as the night itself. It soared over them, landing only several yalms away, its talon raking through the dirt – talons that looked incredibly large and sharp.

Zenos was grinning wickedly as he grasped one of the swords, readying himself as the griffin spread its wings in a display of power. Najas, less certain, but heart pumping with excitement, readied herself.

They sped forwards at the same time, Najas throwing a bolt of thunder at it before sliding to the ground to avoid a sweep of its wing. Zenos rushed past her, a whirl of fury – his attacks too quick for Najas to keep up with as she jumped back to her feet, leaping in the air and bringing her sword down across its face, barely missing its eye.

It shrieked again with a force that Zenos had to brace himself, and Najas slid back a few ilms. She barely avoided the urge to vomit at the putrid breath that curled against her skin. If the creature was smart, she might have thought it a tactic, because as she was distracted, she saw something long and large sweep towards her.

“Oh, shi-” It slammed right into her side, knocking her to the ground before, in anger, she shot multiple balls of fire at it. “Tail!” She yelled.

Since when did griffin’s have _tails?_ Every single one she’d fought had been gracefully void of them. But this monster was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was three times the size of a regular griffin – its feathers as black as the void, and eyes that gleamed red.

Getting back to her feet, Najas kept the beast’s attention as Zenos slipped behind it. It ran at her, talons swiping through the air and beak snapping only ilms from her face. She dodged and flipped out of the way, noticeably nervous as it got closer and closer to her. She slashed and spun, dancing around the head of the creature.

It snapped at her, its beak only seconds from grabbing her legs as she leapt into the air, landing on its closed beak. Her feet slipped on the smoothness, but she readied herself. Just as it moved to throw her off, Najas sprung forward and stuck her sword through its beady eye. At the same time, she heard the tell-tale sound of a blade cutting through bone and flesh.

The griffin shriek, shaking its head and throwing off Najas with barely just enough time to yank her sword back out. She didn’t make the land, landing straight on her ass and she sucked in a deep breath through her teeth and grimaced.

It took to the skies with a shrill cry of pain, whatever was left of its tail spewing a trail of blood behind it as it made back for the tower, circling it with fury shining in its one remaining eye.

She was already on her feet and running for the tower, Zenos beside her. It swooped at them, intending to snatch one of them in its claws, but with one slice from Zenos, its foot hit the ground with a hard _thud_.

The griffin raised its height then, circling above them, bleeding and crying.

They needed to ground it.

Najas cast her gaze to Zenos. ‘ _Can you get me up there?’_

He smiled.

Najas backed up, eyeing the griffin circling the sky, then back to Zenos. They’d have to time this perfectly. She bounced on the tips of her toes, taking a deep breath and readying herself. The beast circled closer, lowering itself slightly.

_Now._

Najas ran at Zenos and he braced himself, cupping his hands together. She leapt into his grip, fueling her aether into his strength as he threw her up in the air, sending her soaring over the griffin.

She landed on the monster, immediately searching for anything to keep her grip as she started sliding off – her hands finding purchase of black feathers as she hauled herself back to the top. She barely saw the glint of Amn-no-habikiri as Zenos tossed it into the air. It flipped over itself several times and Najas caught it with extreme skill. Then, daring to stand, Najas plunged it into the wing of the griffin, and with a scream, tore the sword through the membrane.

Najas couldn’t keep her grip as the griffin spun, its severed wing falling to the ruins below. She slipped off the beast, her landing much more softer when Zenos caught her instead of the ground.

They watched as the griffin crashed into the cliff side beak first. It wailed loud enough that Najas had to reach up and cover her sensitive ears. But it wasn’t dead yet. With a severed wing and tail and a broken beak, the creature turned back on them, limping, avoiding the severed toes of its front left foot.

Najas handed Zenos back his sword and he set her down. They just nodded at each other.

They rushed the griffin, moving in perfect synchronization and teamwork as though they’d been hunting together for years. Fighting with him felt so natural. She understood his every move and they could communicate without having to speak.

The griffin had no defence against them. It could only shriek and flail, its strength quickly failing at as they hacked and slashed, moving too quickly for it to hit them. On opposite sides of the griffin they nodded.

As though practiced to perfection, they both sprinted forward, their swords at the ready as they passed the other, both their blades plunged into the creatures neck as they pulled in opposite directions, showering the ground in a curtain of red before the creature released one last gurgled wail and collapsed to the ground in a cloud of dust.

Najas was breathless as she stumbled back a few steps. She had never hunted an S Class with less than eleven other hunters. But she felt exuberated. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and she smiled.

She sat upon the ground and leaned back, catching her breath. She pumped her fist in the air. Boots neared her face, and she looked up to see Zenos standing over her, a coy smile on his lips. “Did you have fun?”

Najas nodded and sprung back to her feet, feeling full of energy. She thought she was starting to understand him – the rush he felt in a good battle. Najas hadn’t felt this invigorated in a long while. But she felt _good._

He took her face in his hands, his eyes scrutinizing. Najas went still as she always did when he was that close. He smiled. “I do so enjoy that bloodlust in your eyes. The want of another hunt – to do whatever you must to ensure the rush of blood does not end.” He tilted his head, his hands releasing her face. “Shall we hunt another?”

Najas nodded. 

It was only after several more hunts, when they finally parted ways and Najas returned to Kugane, that she realized she still wore his coat.


	7. I Wish I Could Fly That High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning, there are sort-of spoilers for Shadowbringers below. I'm introducing elements of that expansion early so that the transition is smoother.

By the time Najas returned to her home in Kugane, the sun had already climbed the horizon, and Najas was feeling her tiredness.

Her apartment in Kugane was small but comfortable. She hadn’t even bothered locking her door she had left in such a rush. With a yawn, she pushed it open, finding Alisaie sitting on her couch, reading through one of the few books Najas had purchased there.

Najas didn’t even say hello to her. She walked straight past her and crashed on her bed. Her every muscle ached from the many fierce battles she fought that night, though she only bore a few bruises to prove it.

Alisaie looked up from the book in amusement. “Long night?”

Najas gave her a thumb’s up.

“Well, I grew terribly bored of all the arguments with the preparations. The Xaela claimed they didn’t care for our politics, and yet as soon as they found out what little battle they would be doing they were _offended._ So, of course, we offered them more fighting opportunities, but gods forbid when another tribe gets the promise of battle more than another.”

Najas sat back up, stifling another yawn. She stretched an arm. ‘ _Let Hien deal with the Xaela’._

“Is that a new coat?”

Najas suddenly froze.

Alisaie stood from the couch as Najas tried to play it off casually. “It looks Garlean – though I shouldn’t be surprised the market would have to cater to their dominators. Why on earth would you buy it several sizes so big?”

Thinking quick, Najas signed ‘ _Same price. More coat.’_

Alisaie bought it, laughing, and Najas felt her shoulders slump with relief. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, Najas. But you spend your gil how you see fit.”

Najas leaned back in her bed. She wanted to ask how the preparations were going besides the Xaela, but she didn’t have enough energy to play charades. Instead she threw an arm over her eyes to block out the light and simply signed ‘ _Sleep.’_

Lyse hadn’t returned yet, either, so they were likely no closer to the assault than they were a few days ago. Najas wouldn’t admit it, but she was glad. Once Yotsuyu was out of the way, all that was left was to take the fight to the Fringes, and, well… Najas didn’t want to think about that right now.

She slept like a log that night, waking up only once the sun was sinking below the waves off the coast. Zenos was going to turn her into a nocturnal beast.

Alisaie had left, leaving behind a sandwich, which Najas ate hungrily. It only occurred to her, once she saw it, that she hadn’t ate in a whole day. She was usually bad at feeding herself, as she was normally too busy to think of eating on a regular schedule. Alisaie knew this and looked out for her when she could, and Najas was grateful for that.

Before the stalls closed for the night, Najas did a quick sweep of the market, looking for anything new or exciting. The dagger stall had closed, replaced by a merchant selling parasols of all things. Najas’s favourite was pink, embroidered with black and brown lace. There was a long minute where she debated buying it for herself when she decided she had no practical use for it, thanked the merchant, and went on her way.

Teleporting to the Fringes, Najas made sure this time that she was dressed for the cold night, and began her hunt. She was still a few hours early, so she simply found the nest of the giant rainbow-coloured wyvern that made its home on a tall, sheer cliff.

It took Najas a good twenty minutes to climb. Twenty minutes of sweating and aching muscles. Her fingers were bleeding by the time she reached the top, so she knelt in the thin grass and concentrated her aether on healing herself.

The night air nipped at her cheeks, chilling the tips of her ears which twitched in annoyance. She sat low in the grass, watching the wyvern as it curled up on a pile of bones and stolen trinkets, its wings wrapped tightly around its lithe, shiny body.

She had her sword at the ready, just in case she alerted the wyvern before she was ready, but sat on the edge of the cliff, her legs dangling over the edge. She looked up at the stars – the same stars her father would quiz her on the names of.

There was, of course, Hades, Prometheus, Apollo, Hera, Demeter, Janus, Hecate, Tyche, Athena –

Najas grimaced, a pain suddenly growing in the back of her skull. It was similar to what she felt with the Echo, but this pain was more vibrant.

_Athena._

It was like a voice was whispering in her head. But it wasn’t Hydaelyn’s voice, nor was it Midgardsommr’s.

_Athena._

Najas grit her teeth and shook her head, waiting out the pain. Like the slow and steady ebb of the ocean, the pain eventually faded, as though being taken out of her mind by the tide. She turned her gaze away from the stars and the constellations.

She used to want to study the stars, back when she was a child when dreams still filled her head. She wanted to discover new stars and constellations. Julian always praised her and fueled whatever dream she had the next day, but she always went back to stars. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized she wasn’t allowed to have dreams.

Najas remembered one evening in Garlemald, when she had been no more than eleven years of age, she had learned a harsh lesson. She had been kept from the other Garlean children her age, and she never understood why. Finally, when her father wasn’t looking, Najas had snuck out of the house to play with them. Children, she learned, could be the cruelest creatures. They insulted her, spat at her, pushed her in the dirt and tugged on her ears, calling her names that had her returning to the house in welling tears.

_“It isn’t fair! I just want it to be easy!”_ She had exclaimed to her father.

He had knelt down beside her, wiping dirt and tears from her face and gave her a smile. _“I know, little moth. But it will never be easy, never for you.”_ She looked up at him with her big silver eyes. “ _You didn’t get to choose your fate. Your fate was chosen for you.”_

Najas had done many things to try and defy that fate, but in the end, her father was right. She had been an outcast in Garlemald until she left – and still would be to this day if she stayed. Her own life – her choice of adventuring, _that_ wasn’t even her own choice. Hydaelyn had guided her on this path, and now she was the Warrior of Light any decisions she made now could never be for herself. They had to be for the realm and everyone in it.

She didn’t even have the luxury of deciding to retire. Her enemies would find her.

Najas would be stuck on this path until someone cut her down.

Maybe that’s why she came here. Maybe, just this little thing, however inconsequential, was her last opportunity to defy her destiny.

“ _You can’t run from destiny because it frightens you,”_ Cato had once told her.

Najas knew, that whatever attempts she made to defy fate, she was just delaying the inevitable. She didn’t want to think of when the Scions would storm the palace – when she would be forced to battle Zenos until one slew the other. He wouldn’t concede, she knew that. When the time came, he would fight until she ripped his last breath from his lungs with her own two hands.

Why? Why did it have to be that way?

_Your fate was chosen for you._ Maybe. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fight it with all her strength. Maybe it would always win in the end, but she was determined to give it quite the battle.

She smiled when she picked up on the noise of footsteps drawing near. She turned to see Zenos leisurely walking along the edge of the cliff, his hand resting on the sheath hanging from his side.

“What have you picked out for us tonight?” He questioned, getting straight to the point.

Najas nodded her head to the wyvern sleeping about a malm away, its body slowly rising and falling with its deep breaths. By her guess, due to its size, it had to be a runaway of Nidhogg’s brood, seeking solidarity after the dragonsong war. Too bad for it, it had harassed enough merchants on the road to ignore.

She also made no attempt to give Zenos his coat back. It was hers, now. She claimed it.

Zenos walked past her as she stood, carefully avoiding the edge that meant a sure death should she fall, and followed him closer to the nesting wyvern. He knelt in the grass, almost in the same spot she had earlier, and observed it.

Its scales were slick, tight to its body, creating a sheen like the skin that covered a snake. Each individual scale shined iridescent, even its bat-shaped leathery wings. Its long neck was curled beside its bony torso. It looked weak – with its flesh clinging to its skeletal form, but Najas had fought a number of these in Ishgard, and they were no joke. Especially not one of this colour.

Mayhap if it was green, Najas would be inclined to take it on with less caution.

They charged forward at the same time, their blades glinting in the pale light of the moon. The wyvern stirred but didn’t wake until both their sword ripped through the membranes of its wings. Zenos severed its left wing whereas Najas tore a hole wide enough that it was rendered useless.

The creature awoke with a shriek, spinning as it got to its feet, its barbed tail lashing out at Najas as she barely stepped out of the way in enough time. They could have killed it in its sleep – but where would the fun in that be?

Najas readied herself as the wyvern flapped its one useful wing, attempting to take to the sky in a pathetic display before crashing back down on the ground, roaring, it teeth still grizzled with the blood and sinew of its latest victim.

Just like their hunts from the night before, Najas and Zenos moved in perfect practice with each other. They switched and parried, one taking the brunt of the attacks to give the other an opening for a few decent slices at the wyvern’s scaled hide.

She danced and flipped around the creature, trusting Zenos completely.

_Athena._

Najas’s step faltered.

Not now! She shook her head and rushed forward, piercing the dragon’s ribs with her blade. It shrieked and whirled on her, its tail like a wrecking ball as it lashed out. She moved to step out of the way, but her body suddenly felt heavy.

_Athena._

The tail hit her center chest, and Najas fell to the ground, bleeding from the barbs that pierced her skin. She moved to stand up – the wound wasn’t too bad, but her head felt like it was splitting in two – being crushed by the weight of an entire ocean.

She gripped her head in her hands, oblivious to the wyvern that was currently bringing a heavy swipe of talons towards her throat. She was too consumed in pain to notice when Zenos parried the attack. Maybe he yelled something at her – but Najas couldn’t hear him.

_Do you remember when you created the moths?_

That voice sounded in her head again, causing her to scream in pain. She fell to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, holding her head in her hands for all the good it would do her.

_They were your first creation. You loved them dearly._

Tears of pain were streaking down her cheeks as she shook her head as though she could throw the voice out of it. This wasn’t the Echo. This was something else.

_You made most things in the sky. You filled its emptiness with your creations. Your dream was to fly with them. In the end, you always went back to the moth. It was your favourite. You created so many versions I lost count._

“Stop!” She shrieked. “Stop… stop...! Please…” She was sobbing through her teeth. The pressure in her head was immense, as though a mountain were resting on her skull, constantly cracking under the immense weight. “ _Please…stop!”_ She begged; her voice hoarse.

_You made sea creatures fly. You put wings and feathers on whales, watching in awe as they soared with goliath grace above our city._

It was all Najas could do to scream in pain until her voice gave way.

All her senses faded. She was floating in a cold void… alone. She felt numb, her body and her mind both.

_I want to wake up so badly._ Spoke a second voice.

Najas recognized that voice. That was _her_ voice.

_I feel like I’m trapped in a dream. I_ know _I’m trapped in a dream. I just want to wake up. But there is no ledge for me to jump. No train to step in front._ There was a moment of silence, a quiet sob. _I want to wake up so badly._

Najas tried to find the source of the voice, but it sounded as though it were coming from everywhere and nowhere at all.

_Please… let me wake up._ Her voice whispered.

There was silence in answer, until Najas felt a phantom hand touch her cheek. _Just promise to remember. Remember where you come from – who your friends and family are. Don’t forget us, sweet Athena._

_There will never be a day I won’t think of you._

_Then remember that my sanity dies with you._

_I can never die so long as you look upon my creations with love in your heart. Keep them safe and cherish them, and I will be with you all, always._

Najas gasped, her eyes flying open, the pain in her head gone. She sat up with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. The wound on her side stung, but when she looked down, she found it had already been patched up.

She felt grass beneath her, saw the open sky, and felt the cool sting of night air against her face. She was no longer a top a cliff, but resting near a pond, feeling the gentle spray of a waterfall. Her brows furrowed, looking for the wyvern, but finding no trace of battle around her.

“So… You’re awake now,” a familiar, non skull-shattering voice sounded.

Najas looked directly to her left to see Zenos sitting beside her, one arm propped on his knee, looking lazily at the fall of water.

_‘What… happened?’_ She asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. One minute we are having a great hunt, the next you are on your knees, screaming in pain and _pleading_. The beast almost killed you, but thankfully I was quicker.” He looked at her then, his eyes showing no joy. “Was it your Echo?”

Najas thought about it for a moment, but then shook her head. ‘ _The Echo doesn’t provide me with nearly as much pain. It’s usually a vision accompanied by a headache. This time… I saw nothing. I could only hear voices. I’ve never felt anything like it before.’_

“What did they say?”

Her brows furrowed. ‘ _Someone…. Someone wanted to wake up. They thought they were trapped in a dream.’_ “I want to wake up so badly.” She said it in the same tone the voice had, the sadness near over-flowing.

“Is that not a quote from ‘ _I Have Always Been Here_ ’?

Was it…?

Yes… it sounded familiar. A woman unable to determine dream from reality, wandering about an abandoned house so desperately wanting to wake, convinced she was trapped in a dream. She tried to wake herself by leaping off the third-story balcony. Instead, she slept for evermore.

She shook her head. What was happening? ‘ _Is my Echo now confusing the past with fiction?’_ She hadn’t had an Echo vision in a long while, and now it was _wrong._ It was showing her things that were false. Not even _showing_ her things!

“Your Echo might be malfunctioning.”

Was that something that was even possible? Her Echo was not a machine in poor repair. It was a gift from Hydaelyn. And yet… her connection to the goddess _had_ been severed. Maybe that separation was finally catching up with her.

Would she eventually completely lose the Echo?

Najas suddenly frowned. ‘ _How can you quote ‘I Have Always Been Here’?’_

“Contrary to popular belief, I do enjoy things outside of hunting. Though, I will admit, none give me such pleasure or joy as the battlefield does. So, I will admit, I am disappointed that our hunt was cut short this night.”

Najas moved her hand over her wound. Had he bandaged her up?

“It also appears you are in no condition to continue, either.” Zenos sighed. “This night has bored me.”

‘ _you saved me.’_

He turned to her, taking his chin in his hand. It didn’t even surprise her anymore, she just expected it. “You will only die should I be the one to decide it. Your heart is only allowed to cease beating should I pierce it with my own blade.” His eyes were intense as they flickered between hers. “You are _my_ beast.”

“Then you’re _mine,”_ she spoke.

It was only for the briefest second, but Najas caught as his eyes cast down to her lips as he held her face in his hand. He grinned at her, then. “I’m glad we are in agreement.”

She stood then, tearing herself away from his touch even though she longed to lean into it. ‘ _And a beast does not abandon the hunt, does it?’_

Zenos smiled wickedly in return.


	8. A Spark of Life Shining

Najas didn’t return home that night, but back to the Gyr Abanian palace. She needed to scour libraries and she had few options. The Waking Sands library had been destroyed during the assault, and though Urianger worked tirelessly to rebuild it, it was still lacking. Nor did the Rising Stones’s library even match to that standard. Ishgard had very little outside of its own history, and Master Matoya’s library had been off-limits since Najas accidentally spilt tea on one of the books. She had gotten a broom to the head and an earful before the short old lady threw her out on her ass.

So Gyr Abania it was. The library was large, stretching from floor to ceiling, shelves covered in tomes of all shapes and sizes and colours. Most of them were filled with Garlean history and military, but Najas spent her whole life in libraries and knew how to scan through shelves until she found anything promising.

By the time she was done, her table stashed away in a small corner was covered in several piles of tomes and scrolls. She kept her linkshell on in case the Scions tried to contact her, but her primary focus was on the Echo and trying to discern what that voice could have been. It wasn’t female, so it wasn’t Hydaelyn, and when Hydaelyn spoke to her, Najas usually had a vision of the giant blue crystal that made up her form.

She didn’t think it was Zodiark either – according to the Ascians, he was still sleeping. Nor did she think it was any Ascian themselves. They usually tried to kill her, not talk to her; save Elidibus, but Najas was just waiting for the day he raised his hand against her. Especially now that she’d taken down three of his allies.

Najas didn’t expect to find too much. After all, Garleans didn’t have access to aether, so none of them had ever been gifted the echo, but she was desperate to find all she could. If that happened again… if she was rendered useless during a decisive battle… well… it could mean the end of her. The end of the Scions. And the end of the Resistance.

She didn’t sleep that night. She sat in the corner, flipping through book after book, looking for any information she could, staying awake with tea and coffee brought to her by the pot-full’s.

Najas was coming up aggravatingly short. Every time she thought something might be promising it led her nowhere.

Giving up on the tomes, Najas scoured the library until she found _I Have Always Been Here._ It was a short novel she managed to get through in a few hours, and it seemed Zenos had been right. _‘I want to wake up so badly,’_ was a quote from it.

The protagonist, haunted by the ghost of her lover, convinced herself she’s trapped in a dream, and so ended her own life in order to wake up. The dialogue was almost exactly the same as it had been in her dream. She shook her head. _What_ was happening to her?

“Finding everything you’re looking for?”

Najas glanced up at an unfamiliar voice, and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. A lean Hyur man stood before her with a wry smile upon his lips. He had medium locks of silver hair and shrewd maroon eyes. Glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, adorned in the edges with small aetheric crystals. He also wore a white lab coat, a deep purple cravat tucked into his vest.

Najas looked him up and down, frowning.

He placed a white-gloved hand over his chest and bowed. “I was instructed to help you find what you’re looking for.”

Najas didn’t answer.

‘ _you’re not Garlean,’_ she signed.

“No. I am not.” He bowed once more. “Aulus mal Asina.”

She couldn’t say she’d heard of that name before. Her suspicious frown only deepened.

“If you are looking for novels on the echo, you will not find them here. I am afraid I’ve hidden them away in my laboratory. However, I would be more than pleased to allow you to rifle through my collection.”

Najas looked him up and down once more, unsure. Something about the man made her… uncomfortable. She couldn’t put a pin on what it was, but her gut warned her not to trust him.

However… she did need information, and the library was lacking.

She stood through she kept her distance from him.

“Please, Sas Tilvinus, I promise you no funny business.”

‘ _I am not a Sas.’_

Aulus tilted his head, his eyes shining from behind his glasses. “Aren’t you, though?”

He was trying to be mysterious, but Najas had a knack for ruining that. ‘ _No. I’m quite literally not.’_

“You may have denied my lord’s offer at first, but why would you be hunting with him if you were not considering it?”

Najas almost slapped him. She didn’t think she was quite so easy to read, but it seemed she was wrong. She was just as open as the books on the table. Instead, Najas crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him.

Aulus chuckled. “Fret not, for now. Instead, allow me to escort you to my laboratory.”

Najas jutted her chin forward as though to say ‘lead the way’.

With another bow, Aulus turned and started out of the laboratory. Najas followed a few steps behind him, watching his every move. There was something about him that reminded her of a snake. Zenos was a prowling, powerful beast. But Aulus… he reminded her of something that stuck to the shadows and slithered upon the stones, striking at their prey with poison.

He led her through both familiar and unfamiliar corridors, until he took her to the basement of the palace, which Najas did not know existed. It had to be a new addition, as the architecture changed from ancient Gyr Abanian to the familiar Garlean design of magitek steel she knew well.

The elevator ride down was silent. Aulus was casual, but Najas hadn’t taken her eyes off him once. Her disposition to him was rather clear, though he acted as though he didn’t care.

When the elevator doors opened Najas was greeted to the sight of a towering domed room and a goliath machine at the center. She halted, unsure of what to make of it. It was gargantuan steel, with tubes connecting to strange containers, hanging from the ceiling and crawling across the floor like the same snakes she once compared him to. At the front and center were two steel tables, both outfitted with leather straps, currently empty.

“Pay no mind to the machine, it’s an experiment I’m currently working on.”

It was hard _not_ to pay attention to it. It took up half of the room and seemed to be its pride and joy. Najas, for the life of her, could not guess the purpose of the machine. However, when she attuned her senses, she found aether flowing through the clear tubes.

What would Garleans need with aether?

This was a magitek invention, sure, but the aether wasn’t _fueling_ it, but _traveling_ through it.

“The tomes are this way,” Aulus said, leading her to a small section to the left, which consisted of only two bookshelves, two seats and a table cluttered with notes and unfinished meals and drinks. “I apologize for the mess. Aans aren’t allowed down here, and well… I’m a rather messy person.” He laughed. Najas didn’t.

Lingering on the gigantic machine for only a moment longer, Najas turned her attention to the shelves.

“I do hope you find what you’re looking for here…”

She scanned the books, finding each title unfamiliar to her. They all seemed ancient. Their edges were frayed, some of their pages ripped and yellowed with age. Their colours were faded with time and Najas feared even touching one would disintegrate it to dust.

Grabbing a random novel of faded red with golden trimming, Najas flipped it open, finding the language… illegible. She’d never seen this language before. She thought, maybe it resembled old Eorzean, but something about it was off. Words that should have made sense were jumbled and senseless.

She placed the book back and took out another; an old boar-skin journal with a tattered ribbon marking a page in a language that Najas _did_ recognize.

It spoke of the Echo.

With furrowed brows, Najas turned away from the bookshelf and scoured the page. It explained the many different ways people had used their echo – how the gift sometimes varied, but the core of it was always the same. It granted immunity from Eikons and visions of the past, but sometimes, if the person were exceedingly talented, it could grant other things, like future vision or even immortality.

Why did Garlemald have such detailed novels on the Echo?

She turned to ask Aulus this when her ear twitched, picking up on the sound of a nearby footstep. Najas whirled, finding a needle uncomfortably close to her neck, pricking her skin seconds before she swept his legs from under him and drew her rapier, pointing it to his neck.

Grabbing the syringe, Najas yanked it from her neck and checked it. It was still full. She had caught Aulus before he could press the plunger. Najas tossed aside the syringe, shattering it upon the floor and spilling its pale purple liquid on the slate.

He had his hands raised, but still wore a coy smile. “My… apologies… I could not resist the opportunity to personally…. _Test_ someone who has the power of the Echo.”

Najas narrowed her eyes, casting them to the machine for a brief moment. Was that it’s purpose? She looked back to Aulus, the point of his sword still under his chin, her foot on his chest. She took several moments, debating whether she should slice his throat or not.

“My lord mentioned how you were having… difficulties with your Echo, and well…. Well… My patients rarely give me express permission, you see. Better to ask forgiveness than permission as they say, yes?”

Najas pressed the point to his skin, a red bead of blood gathering at the tip. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously, still maintaining his award-winning smile.

She sheathed her sword. ‘ _How does it work?’_

Aulus rubbed at his neck, frowning at the pin-prick wound before getting to his feet and wiping the dirt and dust off of his clothing. “Well… I’m not sure I have permission to say.”

Najas tilted her head at him.

He sighed. “Very well… I brought you down here after all.” He turned his back to Najas, a wicked glint lighting his eyes as he beheld the machine. “This… is my best creation. It is common knowledge that Garleans cannot use the aether, and so, we cannot receive the Echo. But… this machine… this glorious machine… It can create an artificial Echo.”

Najas thought her heart stopped. Her eyebrows raised and she blinked again and again, as though trying to reset her brain to understand what he just said. She opened her mouth then closed it again. Raised her hand in question then lowered it.

“…what?” she croaked.

_Is your Echo malfunctioning?_

Did Zenos… did he…?

‘ _Have you used it yet?’_ Najas demanded, still reeling from the fact that you could create an artificial Echo.

“No. Not of yet. But I believe it is finally ready.”

‘ _And what were you going to do with me?’_

“Nothing with the machine. I simply wished to study your Echo. The only knowledge I have of it has been found in books. But you…” Aulus turned towards her, grinning like a snake. “You’re a living, breathing Echo. I _must_ have a glimpse at the aetheric wave patterns in that brain of yours.”

Najas took an instinctive step back.

“And after all, after what lord Zenos said about your Echo acting abnormally… well… this could be a _great_ discovery. And you would contribute to that. Imagine if we discovered a whole new gift to the Echo because of you.”

Najas took further steps away from Aulus, her eyes switching between him and the machine. Her stomach had twisted and knotted. This machine…. It was… was it a horror? Was it a brilliant invention? She couldn’t decide.

“Tell me, what exactly did you experience?”

Switching her gaze back to the scientist, Najas shook her head at him.

“Please… I simply _must_ know!”

Najas pushed down the bubble in her throat. Her gut had been right about him. ‘ _No.’_ she turned away from Aulus, grabbed an armful of books, and power-walked to the elevator, intensely frowning at him until the doors closed, cutting their contact from one another.

She returned to the library, finding an even more hidden corner to hole herself in while she read the books, trying to keep tiredness at bay with information. She desperately scoured the books for any information on what was happening with her Echo, but any records pertaining to voices were about Hydaelyn. Nothing about a male voice.

One of the books was a record of every individual gifted with the Echo. Najas had once thought she was one of a very select few, but she couldn’t be more wrong. There were thousands that had the echo. On the most recent page she found a familiar name of one in the Scions. Underneath it was hers. Najas Ti’loke (Najas Tilvinus (Sas))

She set the books down in frustration, holding her head in her hands. She couldn’t ask Hydaelyn since her connection had been cut, and even if she could, Hydaelyn had only ever been cryptic. She couldn’t ask Midgardsommr – he hadn’t spoken with her since she defeated Nidhogg. She had no one left to consult. The Scions knew less of the Echo than she, and anyone who might know was out of reach or dead.

“You look like killing something would improve your mood.”

Najas looked up from her hands to see Zenos standing in front of her, swords at his side and ready to go.

‘ _You may be right,’_ she signed, closing the book beside her. ‘ _Your scientist tried to kidnap me.’_

“He does that on occasion.”

‘ _You should be more concerned about that.’_

“Should I?”

Najas frowned up at him, but it wasn’t his response that made her do so. Instead, it was Aulus’s earlier comment that bothered her. _You wouldn’t be hunting with him if you weren’t considering it._ Was she considering going back to Garlemald with him? She wasn’t sure. Yet… being here… hunting with him… she couldn’t deny that it was the first time she felt alive since, well, _ever._

She felt as though she didn’t need to be the unconditionally kind saviour of Eorzea. That maybe, for the first time, she had options of whom she wanted to be. Yet, what _did_ she want to be?

Standing from the chair, Najas made sure her rapier was still at her side, and joined Zenos as he exited the palace. As they walked, Najas started thinking on what _would_ happen if she were to abandon the Scions…

She was not so arrogant as to think everything depended solely on her shoulders but… she also knew she was a major player in the game. Alphinaud often compared her to the queen in a game of chess.

The Scions would continue and perhaps aim to bring her back or even stop her. But the Resistance in Ala Mhigo… since Najas was the only one capable of countering Zenos, that would bring the liberation to a crushing defeat. She would continue to slay Eikons, albeit in the name of the empire.

And then she would have to help conquer Eorzea.

Could she do that? Could she turn her back on the continent in the name of her own desires? She didn’t that she were that selfish. She always liked to imagine herself as just. Not kind. Not cruel. Just.

Looking at Zenos, well.. Najas knew exactly what drove him. He knew who he was and what he wanted. He cared nothing for the empire or his own status – only what he could do with them. Free to pursue his desires.

Najas wished she had herself figured out as easily as he had. Life would be so much simpler that way, Yet, in the words of her late father, nothing would ever be simple for her.

They were both silent the whole way, but it was a comfortable silence they often found themselves within. It was strange to think that only a month ago Najas was trying to tear his heart out, and now she found herself enjoying his stoic company.

She looked forward to their nightly hunts, too scared to think of when they would end or if the Scions ever found out. For now, she was content to flip the bird to destiny and be a little selfish for once.

“Here,” Zenos said.

Najas snapped herself out of her thoughts and looked ahead. They stood in front of a similar oasis they recovered in last night, but this bore no waterfall, only a sheer, dry cliff at its back. With the vast emptiness behind them, and only clear waters in front, Najas found herself confused.

She started as he removed his coat. “The beast lies in a cave connected by an underwater tunnel. We will have to swim there.”

Najas looked at the oasis with wide eyes, then took several steps back. ‘ _Perhaps… there is easier beasts to tame?’_

“Easy? Since when do either of us derive pleasure from _easy?”_

If Najas were to speak, she would be stammering. ‘ _Who wants to be soaking wet in the dead of night? After all, that pond looks disgusting!’_

They both looked at the impossibly clear water, where Najas spied the deep entrance to the tunnel Zenos had spoken of.

Perhaps not an adequate excuse.

She felt her heart skip when she realized he had not only removed his coat, but was removing his shirt as well. His fingers curled under the edges, revealing the golden skin of his abdomen. With a blush snapping into her cheeks, Najas turned her back, fiddling with her fingers.

Oh, this was the _worst._

“Do not tell me the Warrior of Light is _shy,”_ he teased.

Well… that was a _part_ of it… but…

“I can’t swim,” she blurted out, turning to face him.

There were several heartbeats of silence, where she was positive it was the first time she’d ever seen Zenos _surprised._ She was painfully pointed at looking at his face and no lower. But even his stare proved to be too much as she turned her back once more.

Not even the Scions knew she couldn’t swim. Back at the Ruby Sea, they’d been granted bubbles of air and had been allowed to walk at the bottom of the sea. No swimming had been required, so Najas’s secret was kept safe.

Her ears twitched at the sound of him nearing her and she judged he stopped several ilms behind her. Najas’s cheeks were beet red with embarrassment. _Her,_ the Saviour of Eorzea, couldn’t _swim._ There weren’t many large bodies of water in Garlemald, and her father had never taught her so… she never learnt.

Najas’s breath caught when she felt Zenos’s hands on her waist.

“Then it is past time you learnt.”

“What?” She squeaked.

Next thing Najas knew, her feet had left the ground and her body was plunging into almost freezing waters. Panic seized her body as she suddenly flailed her limbs, throwing her head up to break the water’s surface. She thrashed her arms and legs, water splashing all around her in her fear-induced display.

In her panic, she had completely forgotten about Soroban’s Blessing and only remembered the incident when she fell in a river as a child and almost drowned. She remembered the muddy waters filling her mouth and her nose – unable to get a big enough breath of air; having to cough liquid out of her lungs instead.

She suddenly found something firm within all the water and she clung to it for dear life.

“Calm yourself or you shall drag us both down.”

Najas found the thing she had clung herself to was Zenos, who was treading the water with more graceful and powerful strokes than she, maintaining himself above water despite Najas’s thrashings which would have brought anyone else down with her.

“There – like that,” he said when her movements became more calm and precise.

Najas still clung to him in a death-grip, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, painfully ignoring the fact that he was entirely shirtless beneath her. The muscles that shifted beneath his skin were like velvet-wrapped steel.

“Of all things, my beast is afeard of water.”

Najas couldn’t even drag her focus away from treading to glare at him. She focused on moving her legs like he moved his, though she dared not let go of him. She didn’t fancy testing if Soroban’s Blessing worked outside of the Ruby Sea.

Her sopping clothing was dragging her down, but she prided herself in being more proper than he. _She_ would not throw someone in deep waters had they just confessed they couldn’t swim.

Wait… no… that was a lie. She had previously done that to Alphinaud.

Karma was a bitch, it seemed.

Zenos drew them into deeper waters, where Najas had to push down the bubble of fear that rose in her throat when she glanced at the depths. She once had to fight leviathan upon a makeshift boat, but at least she knew she had rubble to cling to and ships waiting for rescue should anything have gone wrong.

She tried to remain calm, but all she could remember was that night in Garlemald in the river. She thrashed and cried for help, but all she heard in return had been laughter.

Becoming the Warrior of Light… she thought it would erase all her fears, but it seemed fear found a way into every heart, no matter how powerful or guarded.

“Time to let go.”

Najas fervently shook her head. 

She looked up as Zenos took her chin in his hand. “Fear is an emotion I find intriguing on most people. It either offers complete resistance or complete subjugation. Fear… is what makes wars interesting.” He tilted her head to the side. “fear doesn’t suit you, however. A beast does not fear.”

She bared her teeth at him in anger, but he only chuckled in return.

But… as they treaded the water in the middle of the pond… Najas slowly found her fear shrinking. She found calm washing over her. She had a rock to cling to in the storm. Maybe this would be one more fear she could conquer. If only it were so easy as slaying a beast…

As she started to calm, Najas looked up into the eyes as blue as the waves she feared. She often found herself able to stare into those eyes for an eternity. A raging ocean swirled within those eyes – shimmering like the blue jewels of the east.

“You have… beautiful eyes.” Najas isn’t sure what in the seven hells prompted her to say such a horrific thing, but she suddenly wished to just fade out of existence.

Zenos tilted his head. “That is not what people usually say about my eyes.”

Najas had heard the whispers. _He has the eyes of a monster. The eyes of a merciless beast. His eyes are filled with an insatiable bloodlust._ And… maybe those things were all true. But that isn’t what Najas saw. Maybe that _should_ have been what she saw.

She was nervous, but this time for different reasons. With the fear of water being gone, it only made her too-aware of his hands gripping her waist, making sure she stayed above he surface, or her arms which were wrapped around his neck.

His proximity always made her nervous. It made her aware of every detail of his face, or worried about the details of _her_ face. It often brought her gaze to his lips, which, she, in shameful moments, often wondered what would feel like against hers.

It was a strange urge. Like that urge, where, just for second, when standing upon a tall cliff, you wanted to jump. This urge lasted longer than a second. It was ten – thirty – longer.

Mayhap fear made her do stupid things, for she thought not of consequences. Instead, before she could talk herself out of it, she brought her lips to his.

There was no surprise. He had been waiting for her, his lips meeting hers in a passionate embrace. She pulled herself closer to him, making sure not a breadth of air or water parted them as their lips danced a battle more ferocious than their blades had.

Najas felt her heart pounding against her ribs, thinking not of the war or the Scions, but only how his mouth seemed a perfect fit to hers. How they moved in time to embrace and welcome hers.

They were both beasts hungry for more. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling herself closer to him, refusing to let go. She craved his lips on hers, the touch of his skin and how he starved for _her._

They broke apart only to catch their breath. Her nose brushed his cheek, her chest heaving, unable to supress the sigh that escaped her when his lips found her neck instead, his teeth and tongue scraping along her skin.

Where she felt fear only five minutes prior, she now felt lost in bliss. And when she could no longer bear his lips being parted from hers, she took her mouth to his again, allowing his seeking tongue entry.

They weren’t soft or gentle, neither as people, nor did they have the time to be. Najas felt alive for the first time in a long time. Her core was alight with fire and she felt renewed in energy.

They sank beneath the waters, and with her kiss, Najas granted Zenos Soroban’s Blessing. His lips travelled her neck, pleased by the groan she released when he nipped at her skin, placing a more delicate kiss over the wound.

“More…” She whispered.

“Mm…” His kisses trailed back up her neck and across her jaw before stopping over her lips. Unable to bear the wait, Najas leaned in, but he turned his head to the side, his nose brushing her cheek. His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered, “I like making my prey wait.” His hands ran up her waist ad ribs, making her shiver at his touch. “It only makes it that much more pleasurable.”

She took his chin in her fingers as he had done to her so many times before. ‘ _You forget a beast such as me is not such easy prey’._

He grinned, his index finger trailing her jugular vein. “Then say my name, and maybe I will give you what you seek.”

Najas leaned forward, taking his lips to hers once more. Softer and slower than their previous kisses had been. She savoured this one, allowing their lips to linger.

“Then wait,” she said into his mouth.


	9. Even For You

They were back in Zenos’s room. He lay across the couch, his head resting in Najas’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. Every now and then he released that deep rumble from the core of his throat that Najas could only compare to the purr of a lion.

Najas had needed to warm back up after their adventure in the oasis, burying herself deep in his coat, though Zenos himself seemed entirely unaffected by the cold.

She stared down at him, wondering if this would be her life if she returned to Garlemald with him. She didn’t think that would be a bad life. She couldn’t help but consider it. She couldn’t help but debate abandoning the scions to go with him… Najas tried to chide herself of such thoughts, but she couldn’t deny the blossoming feeling in her chest when she looked at him.

As much as she loved hunting and sparring with him, she also loved _this._ Just relaxing – Zenos being entirely vulnerable with her. One hand she ran through his hair, while her other gently caressed his face and neck, though she was careful to avoid his Third Eye, as to allow another to touch it was a sign of upmost intimacy and trust.

After a half hour of this, Najas gently poked his nose to get his attention. His blue eyes lazily fluttered open to meet hers. “Hm?”

‘ _You should tie your hair up in battle. That way enemies can’t grab it.’_

He didn’t seem to care. “It gives my enemies an advantage they sorely need.”

‘ _I think it would look nice tied up.’_

He closed his eyes again. When Najas didn’t resume, eyes still closed, he took her wrist and placed her hand over his hair. She almost laughed but poked him on the nose again. “You must stop doing that.”

‘ _I’ve no other way to get your attention.’_

“Then speak.”

Najas tilted her head at him. ‘ _You know I’m still working on that.’_

Zenos sighed. “What?”

‘ _Do you have any scars?’_

“None.”

She considered him for a moment, but believed him. Even his hands, which should have been calloused from years of bladework, were smooth as a noble who’d never worked a day in their life.

‘ _If I hadn’t seen you on the battlefield, I’d find it hard to believe you’d ever wielded a sword.’_

“What about you? Do you harbour any scars from your enemies?”

Najas nodded. ‘ _Many.’_ She tapped her right ear. ‘ _I’m slightly deaf in this ear due to the explosion when Dalamud fell.’_

That seemed to catch Zenos’s attention. “You were at the battle when Dalamud fell?”

Najas nodded. ‘ _Were you?’_

“I was. Shame we didn’t cross blades back then. You would have saved me another five years of boredom.”

Najas rolled her eyes. Of course _that’s_ what he cared about. But… Najas couldn’t help but think how different her life might be if they _had_ met all those years ago. She paused, however. ‘ _It’s been seven years now.’_

That seemed to surprise him. “Seven? Hm.”

‘ _How could you not realize. Haven’t you celebrated seven namedays since then?’_

“I don’t celebrate my nameday. It’s pointless.”

‘ _That’s sad,’_ Najas frowned. But then again… when was the last time Najas celebrated _her_ nameday? She believed it was coming up, but with the war, it was the least of her concerns. Her father had always made a big deal about her nameday, but after Najas left Garlemald, it fell down the list of her priorities. ‘ _Wouldn’t Garlemald celebrate the nameday of their crown prince?’_

“I’m quite sure they do. I just do not care to join them.”

If Najas recalled, all namedays of royals were considered holidays in Garlemald.

’ _Yours is during the Winter Solstice?’_ She remembered her father bringing her to the party within the royal palace, though now that she thought about it, she distinctly remembered the one of whom the party was thrown for being absent. Though none of the nobles and military officers seemed to care, and simply welcomed a holiday.

“This topic doesn’t interest me.”

Najas rolled her eyes. ‘ _Well…’_ she continued, ‘ _I have no feeling in this finger,’_ she signed before pointing out her left pinky. ‘ _Garuda almost severed it. Y’shtola managed to heal it, but she couldn’t reconnect the nerves. I have a scar across my back-right shoulder from Nidhodd. Tricky bastard possessed a talented dragoon friend of mine. What else… I got stabbed in the abdomen once. That hurt. And I have a burn on my left forearm from friendly fire. Quite literally.’_ Najas paused then. ‘ _And then the obvious scar from Cato.’_

Zenos sat up then, rolled up his right sleeve, and pointed out the tiniest fleck of silver-scarred flesh on his forearm.

‘ _I thought you said you didn’t have any scars. What’s that from?’_

_“_ You. During our battle in Doma castle town.”

Najas looked at the pitifully small scar, and then couldn’t help but laugh. ‘That’s _what impressed you? I’ve slain countless Eikons and that tiny little nick is what caught your attention?’_

“I have fought countless battles. One-on-one, and large scale wars. I was there when Dalamud fell, and still I bore no mark from my enemies. But you, my precious beast. Even small, you managed to leave a scar. You are the only one who has managed to hold their own against me. Not once, but several times now.”

Najas grinned wickedly. ‘ _Well, give me the chance, I’m sure I could leave much more… interesting scars…’_

That rumble released from his throat again and he pushed her flat against the couch, crawling over her, that excited glint in his blue eyes. “I’m sure.” His eyes traveled from hers to her neck, which his fingers delicately ran over. “But I would much rather leave far more memorable scars on _you_.” Najas’s breath caught as his lips took the delicate skin of her neck. “After all, if I haven’t left my mark on you after all our battles well… that would be a shame.”

Najas closed her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs as he trailed kisses down her neck before he stopped where he neck met her shoulder. She groaned when she felt the bite of his teeth against her skin, arching her back to him, her chest pressed against his.

She sighed as he ran his tongue over the fresh wound, winding her fingers in his hair. She felt her core alight with fire as he gripped her hips and ran his teeth up the side of her neck before he took her lips against his once more.

She tangled both hands in his hair, wrapping her legs around his waist as he scooped her up with ease. Their lips never broke from the other’s, but he knew his room like the back of his hand as he walked her over and set her down on his bed.

Najas felt those butterflies in her stomach, but more importantly the heat that was swelling between her legs. She moved her hands from the back of his head, trailing down his chest until she found the first button of his shirt.

Zenos chuckled into her mouth. “You’re an impatient, hungry beast, aren’t you?” He took her hands, wrapping his fingers in hers before he pinned her hands above her head. “But a beast needs to learn to obey.”

Najas bit her lip, whatever comeback she might have had lost as he took her mouth again. One hand remained pinning hers while the other delicately ran down her arm, her neck, down to her waist, then back up and dangerously close to her breast.

She craved his touch, wishing for him to stop teasing her and simply give her what she wanted, but it seemed his pleasure grew from making her wait. It grew with every sigh and moan she bestowed upon him.

_Athena._

Najas grimaced. _Not now!_

She kissed him again to forget about the pain growing in the base of her skull.

_Athena._

She kissed him fiercer, fighting against his restraint to take his face in her hands.

_You can do better than him. Even if he is my… well… let’s not get into that._

Najas winced, sucking in a deep breath.

_Athena…_ The voice sounded slightly annoyed this time.

The pain in her skull was almost unignorable by this point, but Najas was used to pain. She pushed it back.

_My darling, you always were so stubborn._

Najas suddenly grabbed her skull, grimacing.

Zenos stopped, looking at her carefully. “Is it the voice again?”

Najas went to shake her head, but the pain suddenly multiplied. She sat up, holding her head in both hands.

_Dear Athena._

“That’s… not my name…” she hissed.

She heard a chuckle in the back of her mind. It was like thunder going off in her skull. She stumbled right off the bed, her knees crashing to the floor as she bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming.

_You know, I’m not a fan of reminiscing but… that day you made the whales fly… Feathers on a whale – how utterly ridiculous. But even I cannot deny the beauty of seeing them soar._

Najas tried to walk forwards, but she only collapsed further, a supressed scream escape through her teeth.

_I don’t like talking about things in past tense._ The voice sounded suddenly sombre. _But you_ did _create such marvelous things, Athena. I see the seeds of your creation in every winged beast around me. I try not to kill the moths, though they can be quite bothersome._

Her vision was dark – black dots swimming behind her eyes, granting her only a blurry tunnel of vision, but she felt arms wrap around her, and felt herself be lifted from the floor. Her head lolled against Zenos’s chest, her fist wrapping in the fabric of his white shirt as he walked her from the room, the voice in her head still talking nonsense, the pain growing with every word.

_We had a perfect world. We loved it. But you ruined it. You suffocated everything I loved. Even yourself._

She didn’t know where she was being led, and she didn’t care so long as it made the pain end. “ _Z…Ze…”_ She gasped at the pain that bubbled as she tried to speak his name. Her fist curled deeper into the fabric of his shirt.

Before she could attempt to say his name again, Najas blacked out.

*

Najas woke, the pain still at the base of her skull, but slowly subsiding. Her hand unfurled, so longer finding the fabric of Zenos’s shirt within, and she tasted blood in her mouth, finding her lower lip bleeding and swollen.

Aulus suddenly appeared over Najas.

She screamed and punched him in the throat.

“I told you to stay away from me, creep!” Najas was on her feet in an instant, Aulus coughing and chocking and gasping for air as he hunched away from her. However, whatever strength had availed Najas in that moment left her as her legs quickly grew weak under her and she collapsed on to her knees. Her arms grasped whatever was beside her – a metal table she thought.

Aulus tried to speak but he was still gasping.

‘ _You’re lucky my legs don’t work,’_ she furiously signed. ‘ _I’d beat you to a pulp, you despicable little man.’_

She heard a chuckle from behind and turned to see Zenos standing there, arms crossed, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You are the most entertaining when you wake from hospitalization.”

Najas scooted away from Aulus as strength slowly returned to her legs. She didn’t have to look around much to know she was in the basement with the Echo machine. She didn’t seem to have anything attached to her and she didn’t _feel_ different… well… no. Something was different with her aether – like when Midgardsommr cut her off from Hydaelyn.

‘ _What did you do?’_ She frowned, worried.

Aulus gasped in the corner. “We…” He coughed. “Discovered what was wrong with…” he gasped again and cleared his throat. “What was wrong with your Echo.”

Shakily, Najas rose to her feet, though she had to lean on the table for support. ‘ _Wrong… with my Echo?’_ She frowned.

He rubbed at his throat, which was now beet red. She didn’t feel bad. “Yes…” he coughed one last time. “Most of those with the Echo have an open line of communication with Hydaelyn – but yours was cut off.”

‘ _I already knew that.’_

”I wasn’t finished.” Aulus turned a screen, showing numbers and lines that didn’t make any sense to Najas. “It was blocked. Not cut. Someone else is using that line to communicate with you, however, as they are not whom the connection is intended for, it is causing immense strain on your aether, resulting in the extreme headaches and pain.”

Najas…. _supposed_ that made sense. Whenever that man spoke to her, it _felt_ like her Echo, but albeit a far, far more extreme version of it. Whenever Hydaelyn spoke, it wasn’t as painful as a vision, but there was always a slight headache accompanied by her voice.

‘ _So… who is trying to speak to me?’_

“That… I can’t discern. The Echo is very mysterious in its ways, but I _can_ tell you whomever is speaking to you is someone powerful. I haven’t heard of anyone manipulating another’s Echo before.”

Najas wondered if it could be another dragon or… an Ascian.

She had immediately ruled it out as the voice did not belong to Elidibus – but perhaps there was another powerful Ascian she had not met yet. Although… why was he speaking to her in such a manner, calling her a name that was not hers and acting as though he knew her? And all that nonsense about creation…

“I blocked that connection. Partially. It is not an iron wall – they will still be able to speak with you, but should be far less troublesome.”

Najas eyed Aulus suspiciously, slightly losing her balance for a second. She didn’t trust Aulus, and she wouldn’t _exactly_ call what she felt for Zenos trust either, but she trusted in the fact that he wouldn’t try to hinder her. But… she also couldn’t ignore the fact that Aulus had gotten the chance to study her Echo.

“A ‘Thank You’ usually substitutes,” Aulus smiled.

Najas bared her teeth at him. ‘ _You’re lucky I don’t kick your balls up your ass.’_

Aulus took a step back at such rudeness. He coughed again and subconsciously rubbed at his throat. “You’re very hostile towards someone that just aided you.”

‘ _I don’t trust you, little man.’_

“Little man?” Aulus demanded. “If this is how you treat your allies, I dread to think how you treat your enemies. With a tongue like that, it’s little wonder Cato drove a sword through your throat.”

Najas’s eyes went wide and her vision went red with fury. She started forwards, but strong hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders. “As much as I would actually enjoy watching you beat someone to death, I am afraid I need him alive and preferably unharmed.”

She didn’t try to fight against Zenos, instead, keeping eye contact with Aulus, she pounded her fist into her palm. ‘ _Count your blessings, you withering turd.’_

Najas couldn’t remember the last time, aside from Cato, that she hated someone so unconditionally, and she couldn’t quite explain her dislike for Aulus, but she felt it in her bones. Mayhap it was his face, but upon seeing him for the first time, she immediately knew they would not get along.

“Mayhap we go for a hunt for you to work off that anger. We never did finish hunting that serpent, after all…”

“ _Najas? Najas are you there?”_

With a start, Najas brought a hand up to her linkshell and turned away from the two Garleans. “Yes?”

“ _Thank Hydaelyn!”_ Alphinaud exclaimed. “ _I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now! I was worried something might have happened!”_

Finding her voice still weak, Najas simply waited for him to continue.

“ _It’s time.”_

Najas felt her heart sink.

This was it. This was the moment she had been dreading. When she would have to choose. Did she choose the scions? Cast away her own feelings for the greater good? Or did she abandon the scions and everything she once fought for? All for a chance to realize a passion that might fade – one that took a great leap of faith?

She was silent, staring ahead at the elevator doors.

Najas couldn’t deny the feeling in her chest when she snuck out at night to hunt with Zenos or the overwhelming content and joy she felt simply sitting on the couch with him.

But they both knew this was coming. They both knew whatever they explored was not permanent. That they would meet in real warfare and one would slay the other. It seemed so strange to her after the things she had revealed to him that not even the scions knew. It seemed completely unnecessary.

“ _Najas?”_ Alphinaud’s voice sounded. “ _Najas, are you still there?”_

She could feel the expanding and deflating of her lungs. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She closed her eyes.

_It will never be easy. Never for you._

Without facing Zenos or saying goodbye, Najas headed for the elevator and left Gyr Abania behind.


	10. What If the Road Won't Take Me There

History was doomed to repeat itself.

She had a knack for infiltrating strongholds. With the help of the Xaela tribes, the citizens of Doma, and the children of Soroban, Najas was able to take an elite squadron of her most trusted and ferocious friends and knocked down the front doors to the castle. Inside had been a fierce legion of soldiers sworn to protect Yotsuyu. Failure for Garleans meant death, so they threw everything they had at Najas. But she had infiltrated the praetorium, the holy vault of ishgard, Nidhogg’s nest, and even an ancient Allagan fortress. Nothing the Garleans could throw at her could stop her at this point.

Najas showed no emotion, taking all their advances and deaths in stride.

Even Grynnewhat, a low-ranking captain, personal bodyguard of Yotsuyu, whom Najas had humiliated several times, had been subject to gruesome experiments – likely under the guidance of Aulus. He had gone mad by whatever had been done to him – craving on and on about revenge. But like all her enemies before him, Najas struck him down.

Najas had thought since Yotsuyu was not versed in the ways of combat that it was over. They had captured the palace – the Domans already swarming the place, but Yotsuyu had other plans. She was not content to be defeated in grace. Instead, she planned to take them all down with her. Najas, Hien, Gosetsu and Yugiri.

Yotsuyu blew the foundation of the palace from right under their feet, causing a massive collapse not even Najas would have survived unless Gosetsu had held up the ceiling for their escape on the back of Xaela birds. Najas had reached out her hand to him – blood dripping from his mouth – when the roof collapsed on top of him, the castle going down in a plume of dust.

In that instant, a scene had flashed before Najas’s eyes. A cold landscape, snow delicately blowing upon the wind. A tall bridge she stood upon, a cathedral as her landscape. And a dying friend in her arms.

After Haurchefant, Najas had sworn to never lower her guard and be deceived by her enemies. But she failed her old friend one more time by letting Gosetsu die in front of her while she was powerless to help him.

They landed in the old Doman castle town – a safe enough distance from the crumbling palace and the violent, flooding waters, the place where Najas once battled Zenos. From there, she watched the proud symbol of Doman strength fall into rubble.

“Najas!” Alphinaud ran up to her, both worry and relief upon his face.

He looked as though he wanted to embrace her but thought better of it, so she pulled him into a hug instead, dragging Alisaie in as well. She rested her chin atop their heads, determination set in her brow.

She knew in that moment she could never return to Garlemald unless it was at their side. She could never betray her friends. Alisaie and Alphinaud, both just children, but determined to set the world right just as their grandfather had wished. Najas chided herself for being so selfish enough as to even _debate_ returning to Garlemald.

“I’m so glad you’re safe! When we saw the castle collapsing…”

Najas released her embrace and knelt in front of both of them and smiled. There was blood splattered on her clothing and skin, but she placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “I promised to always remain by your sides.” It was difficult to produce such a long sentence, especially after battle withered her so, but Najas forced herself to say it past the strain upon her vocal cords.

“Where’s… Where’s Gosetsu?” Alisaie questioned.

Najas frowned and looked away.

“No…” the young elezen whispered.

They stood together and watched the palace fall until even the dust had settled, Lyse joining them at some point. They had watched as Doman civilians gathered in wonder, all smiles and joyous laughter. Their land was finally freed of oppression.

When lord Hien returned, their eyes were filled with awe. They knelt upon the ground before him, bowing their heads to the dirt. He made an inspiring speech before them, willing them to rise and stand with them. Even Yugiri, weighed by the grief of losing Gosetsu celebrated with them.

Lyse had a darker look upon her face.

“Our liberation doesn’t end here,” Alphinaud promised. “Your home will be just as free.”

Najas nodded in confirmation, and Lyse gave a small smile, the tiniest fleck of hope shining in her blue eyes.

They returned to Kugane after without saying goodbye, Najas quickly gathering the things she would need. This was the final push in Ala Mhigo – she would not be returning here for a long while. She paused when she spied the white coat laying across her bed. The coat that was several times far too big for her.

Feeling her shoulders droop, Najas put down her bag and walked over to the coat. She picked it up, bunching it up in her arms. She’d had it for a while now but… it still smelt like him – like lemongrass and steel.

She remembered in Garlemald, before Cato, back when she had a new dream everyday, she had once been renowned in the city for her voice. She used to sing – she loved singing. She sung for her father often, and as she grew older, she’d sing for larger crowds. It was the one small thing that granted her acceptance among the other nobles. They’d be willing to overlook her ears or lack of a third eye if she had a talent that entertained them. Her talent landed her in the opera house. And then, eventually, she preformed for the emperor and the royal family.

Najas recalled familiar blue eyes that watched with disinterest, wishing to be anywhere but stuck at a boring party.

She wondered how many other times she’d seen him without realizing.

That party had been where she had met Cato. The one who stole her voice from her.

Najas hadn’t tried to sing since she lost her voice. She hadn’t even thought of it. It used to be something that calmed her, and he stole it from her.

She looked down at the white coat in her hands, the collar intricately embroidered with golden thread.

For the first time in seven years, Najas opened her mouth to sing.

The first note was like a croak. She shut her eyes and pushed against it, pressing harder, a hoarse whisper escaping her. “ _A… beau….”_ She cleared her throat and coughed. _You can do this_ , she told herself.

She thought of her father who would grace her with his warm smile whenever she sang – whether over cleaning dishes, formally, or with him before bed. He hadn’t had the gift of singing, but that hadn’t stopped him. He’d preform her operatics with her, causing her to burst out laughing at his pitched and tone-deaf voice. But it always filled her with joy.

“… _beautiful roar…ing…”_

Najas had wanted to be an astrologist or maybe even a general, but before the days of the calamity, the voice had been her gift. It’s what gave her power in a society determined to strip her of it.

She willed her aether forward, swelling against her vocal cords as she opened her mouth and sang; “ _beautiful roaring scream… of joy and sorrow…”_

It was a song she had written with her father. Most of her songs were wordless, instead accompanying instruments, but that song is what her father had loved the most. If he were here now… she wondered what he’d wish for her.

Najas placed the coat back on the bed, took her backpack and left her apartment.

She met Alphinaud, Alisaie and Lyse at the docks, where they were departing for Ala Mhigo before Hien and Yugiri knew they had been gone, but they were a smidge too late as the Domans appeared, appalled they’d leave without saying goodbye.

Hien wished them well on their liberation and even pledged Doman forced to the Eorzean Alliance. Alphainud had been shocked at this, suggesting Hien should save his forces in case Garlemald attacked, but Hien was insistent. Thus, the heroes left for their ship.

“Walk tall, my friend,” Hien said in ways of goodbye.

Najas smiled at him, but it was gone before she had even fully turned.

The next steps would be the hardest. Garlemald’s presence in Ala Mhigo was stronger due to resistance not being entirely quelled, and their stronghold being not too far away. Whatever they did, they would have to act swiftly, or reinforcements would be upon them shortly.

From there they had returned to their base in Ala Mhigo, returning to their Eorzean allies and recounting to them the tale of their liberation of Doma. From there, they decided to capture Castrum Velodyna next, which would allow them a straight shot to The Peaks, where their main force was held, and where Zenos waited…

There the war discussions began. It was long and tiresome, each having a different voice of approach. But eventually they all came upon agreement.

Najas was restless that night. She hadn’t been restless the night before a battle since that great field upon which Dalamud fell. Since then, she’d taken everything head on without fear or worry. But each fortress they took… the closer they got to the Peaks…

She wondered if she could do it.

If she could stick her rapier through his heart.

If she could end the life of the one person that just… _understood_ her.

Najas had never been conflicted before. She knew Gaius had to be stopped, and she had fought Lahabrea with conviction even though he had possessed the body of Thancred. She’d slain Nidhogg and even fought Estinien when he was possessed. She had always been _so sure._

But now…? What was _wrong_ with her?

She refused to even think his name.

Najas turned on her side, thinking of Haurchefant and Gosetsu – her friends who had died for _her._ She couldn’t let them down now. She had to do what must be done.

So she did.

Najas led the assault on Castrum Velodyna. She was there with Raubhan and Lyse, the Ala Mhigans and the Avanta peoples. She led the frontal charge, slaying any Garlean in her way, a dancing flurry of her silver blade. A beast… yes… she was a beast. She was as vicious and merciless as one.

Even once Rhalgar’s flag flew from the top of the Castrum, Najas pressed on, sending the Garleans running for their lives. Even Fordola, a worthy opponent, fled the Castrum once Najas was set off her leash.

“Are you alright, Najas? You’re bleeding,” Lyse said, catching up to the Warrior of Light.

Najas sheathed her blade, breathless from the battle. Bodies of both Garlean and Ala Mhigan alike littered the Castrum’s steel floors. “I’m fine.”

Lyse shook her head, grabbing Najas’s arm. “You’ve seemed… different these past few days. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Najas thought for a split second if she could confide in Lyse, but then immediately slew the thought where it stood. She turned towards her old friend and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘ _I’m fine’,_ she signed, careful to make it simple. ‘ _Tired.’_ She shook her head. ‘ _Anything for friends.’_

Lyse seemed unsure for a moment, but then smiled. “Just know you can speak to me about anything Najas.” She suddenly frowned and looked to the ground. “I know everyone is worried about _me,_ but you’re doing all of the heavy lifting here.” She met Najas’s silver gaze once more. “Even you can’t bear it all alone.”

Najas took Lyse’s hand in hers, clasping her free one over both and nodded.

None of the Scions could know what she’d done the past few weeks. None of them could know what she’d done with _who._

She spied Alisaie watching them near the back. Though she may have fooled Lyse, Alisaie was always too shrewd for her own good. Her eyes narrowed and she walked away with a frown.

Lyse, however, nodded and sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Well, this _was_ a victory. Let’s see what else we can do to help.”

Thus, they made their way to the Lochs, the last line of defence before the Peaks. They liberated a small village that was well defendable called Ala Ghiri. Najas quickly found a room to temporarily claim as her own, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on the bed in exhaustion. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her boots or her coat.

“Najas.”

She opened her eyes at the sound of Alisaie’s voice, who also had her own bag slung over her shoulder. It didn’t surprise her that some of them would have to bunk up. The village was relatively small, and Najas had been surprised she’d earned a room at all.

However, out of all the people to share a room with, Najas was glad it was Alisaie. Though she liked all the Scions, Najas and Alisaie had immediately taken a liking to each other. Najas even thought of her as a younger sister.

Alisaie dropped her bag on the floor beside Najas’s, her eyes showing the same level of tiredness. They hadn’t even stopped after liberating the Castrum. Instead the Scions and a small force of rebels had marched straight for the Lochs. It was easy to see how their moral had changed since their recent victories. After the ambush on Rhalgar’s Reach, they had been exhausted and hopeless eyes, whereas on the march over, they laughed and joked with each other.

Najas found it was opposite for her.

It was taking a larger toll on her than the dragonsong war ever had.

Alisaie crashed down beside Najas, releasing a large huff of air. The girl was bright and always ready with a scheming solution or a fight, but she had her limits, too. Just like Najas.

“As soon as we liberate the fortress, it’s right to the Peaks. Are you ready, Najas?”

Najas nodded and punched her palm. ‘ _Always.’_

Alisaie turned her head to face Najas, a frown gracing her lips. “Najas… I’m not usually one to interfere in the affairs of others… you’ve been our anchor and stone in the midst of this horrible storm but… I fear that rock is loosening…”

She _was_ a smart girl.

Najas tilted her head to the side in feign of confusion.

“I know Lyse asked this of you earlier today, but I feel as though you did not give her an honest answer. I know anything you told her was to encourage her, but you need someone to lighten your load as well. We’re all in this together.”

Najas smiled and nodded.

“ _No._ I _mean_ it. Najas, what is troubling you?”

She blinked. Was she really such an open book to the young elezen? Could she really be read so easily? She thought of lying to Alisaie, brushing off her concerns as she did Lyse. The last thing she needed were the Scions distracted with menial things like _her_ problems. They had enough to deal with on their own.

“Najas, please. Confide in me.”

Sighing, Najas met Alisae’s gaze. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. She knew she had to tell Alisaie _something,_ but could she really tell her the truth? Mayhap she could think of something that Alisaie would believe but… Najas didn’t like lying to them.

“What I tell you…” She carefully started. “Must be kept a secret from the others.”

Alisaie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “You can confide in me, Najas.”

Taking a deep breath, Najas spilled to Alisaie her secrets.

She explained how it started – how Zenos stole a fraction of her aether, how she confronted him to get it back. She told her that she kept going back, that they would go and hunt creatures together, that she _enjoyed_ his company… more than that. Najas told Alisaie her blooming feelings for the man.

Alisaie was shocked, to say the least, but she remained silent the entire time, allowing Najas to speak, and sign the rest when her voice grew too sore. Najas hoped Alisaie would fail to understand the more intimate parts of her story, but it seemed Alisaie, having felt bad, was brushing up on her language of hands.

“I… see…” Alisaie finally spoke after a long bout of silent.

Najas was intent, holding her breath, unsure of what Alisaie would do with the information.

“I take it you haven’t told Lyse…”

Najas almost laughed. Gods… if Lyse ever found out… she’d punt Najas from the top of Rhalgar’s statue.

“And so… you’re apprehensive about our assault on the Peaks.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. She met Najas’s gaze. “You’re the only one who can match him in battle.”

Najas carefully nodded. “I will fight him.”

“And could you kill him?” She noticed Najas’s hesitation. “Najas… this can only end one way.”

She blinked very quickly. “I can. I will.”

Alisaie closed her eyes, her mind still reeling with the information Najas had bestowed upon her. Finally, Alisaie took Najas’s hands in hers. “Thank you for telling me, my friend. I won’t tell anyone else. I can’t say I understand your feelings but…”

“I’m also Garlean.”

Alisaie choked. “What?”

And so Najas told her the complete truth. Where she grew up, how she grew up, who damaged her voice – who saved her when she was to be executed.

“It seems to be your goal to grant me a sleepless night…” Alisaie sighed. “But thank you for confiding in me, Najas. I just…” She squeezed her hand. “I trust you, no matter what. Even if you _waltzed_ through the door with him, I know you always have our best intentions in mind.” Najas chuckled at the image. “Even you deserve to be selfish sometimes.” She frowned then. “But this is something that…”

Najas squeezed her hand in return. “I know,” she whispered.

A playful grin suddenly grew upon Alisaie’s face. “So, I take it the coat…”

Najas felt her cheeks going bright red and she averted her gaze.

“I knew it… I knew you wouldn’t buy something too big! I can’t believe you stole his coat.”

‘ _Its my coat now,’_ she protested.

“So, it’s a good thing I noticed you left it behind and brought it with me?”

Najas groaned. ‘ _Please tell me you didn’t.’_

“I thought you were in a rush. It looked expensive, after all, I didn’t want you to realize you’d forgotten it knowing we can’t go back to Kugane at the moment.”

‘ _I should burn it.’_

“You should keep it. You deserve nice things.”

‘ _Even if it belongs to our biggest enemy?’_

Alisaie laughed, then. “ _Especially_ if it belongs to our biggest enemy.”

Najas, unable to help but smile, hugged Alisaie after that. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Just don’t have anymore trysts with our enemies or I _will_ be forced to hold an intervention.”

‘ _I make no promises.’_


	11. The Hunt Begins

Capturing Specula Imperialis seemed a sure victory. That was, until the imperials turned their giant magitek canon on the main tower. The explosion of the tower was enough to almost deafen Najas, the vibrations knocking her straight off her feet.

In that moment, Raubahn had issued a full retreat, Alliance soldiers and imperials alike running in sheer chaos to avoid the collapsing tower. Najas had never seen such destruction before. Explosions went off every fifteen yalms – falling rubble crushing fleeing soldiers without prejudice.

They had fled until the tower had collapsed, only sending their elite squadron back in to assess the damages. They had suffered heavy losses – Conrad among them. He made Lyse his successor to the Resistance shortly before passing away.

After that, Lyse and Najas climbed to the nearby ark to assess the canon that had shot upon ally and enemy alike, finding a great plume of smoke rising from the barrel of the gigan canon. Najas couldn’t explain it, but she knew Estinien was responsible. She smiled and bowed to the dragoon she knew could see her through Nidhogg’s eye.

They attacked Castrum Abania next. Lyse, Najas, Alisaie, Alphinaud, and a small squadron whom Lyse trusted the most. Najas, Alisaie and Alphinaud took a less direct route, cutting off all imperial points of contact and severing any hope of reinforcements.

The Castrum was filled with grotesque monsters; results of failed experiments. Loathsome beasts, screaming in agony. Alphinaud seemed slightly sick at the sight of them, but Najas took them all out, one by one, until she encountered the pride of the Garlean experiments.

It was a tough beast, and though left breathless, Najas finally managed to strike it down. They caught up with Lyse next, ready to take out the commanders of the tower.

“We’ll have to strike quick and hard. You ready?” Lyse questioned.

Najas nodded.

They burst into the control room, Fordola at the command. At the sight of her, Lyse had lost her composure, screaming at her, demanding why she would fire upon her own soldiers whom trusted her.

Fordola had her excuses. In her mind she was the one in the right.

Lyse had charged at Fordola then – but Najas caught something _off._ A strange fuchsia symbol appeared in Fordola’s left eye, and she moved to anticipate Lyse’s movements before even Lyse knew what she was doing.

The imperials were upon Najas then. She barely caught when Alisaie snuck around the side in attempt to aid Lyse. There was an opening they both struck for, but it was as though Fordola had disappeared from thin air. She leapt behind Alisaie and before Najas could shout her warning, the woman’s blade was slicing across Alisaie, sending her flying back in Lyse’s direction.

“I know what you can do,” Fordola declared, a wicked grin to her face. “I’ve already seen it.”

Najas, mind racing, immediately thought of the strange machine in the palace’s basement. Aulus’s experiments… Her heart skipped. _No._ They’d given Fordola a special version of her Echo!

As Najas struck down the imperials, Alphinaud screamed his sister’s name, immediately rushing to her side, his healing magicks at the ready. Najas wanted to kneel down and help him, but her healing magicks were not as potent, and there was still one enemy left in the room.

She rushed to Lyse’s side, her rapier at the ready, eyes shining with fury.

“Even so… the odds are against me,” Fordola said.

She threw down a smoke bomb, obscuring the vision of everyone in the room. Najas heard the breaking of glass then.

“Coward!” Lyse shouted, coughing through the smoke. “Get back here!”

When the smoke cleared only a few moments later, Najas and Lyse rushed to the window – the giant hole kicked right through it. It was an impressive fall, one that no one could survive – not even Najas. But Fordola suddenly appeared, hanging on one of those strange imperial flying machines.

“Hero!” She shouted. “Lord Zenos invites you to join him for the royal hunt, to be hosted at the palace.” Najas’s heart skipped. “You may bring your hoard if you like. _All_ are welcome!”

Fordola flew away then. Najas wanted nothing more than to spring after her – to pull of one of Estinien’s fancy jumps. But Alisaie was more important. She ran to the side of her friend whom was unconscious but seemed ultimately okay.

They returned to Rhalgar’s Reach then, the original Resistance camp that had slowly been building its defences since the imperial ambush when Najas and Lyse first arrived to lend their support. Now the camp was more defended than ever.

With Alisaie already on the mend, swearing revenge for getting stabbed, Najas decided to join Lyse for one final training session before the final battle. There, upon the outstretched hand of Rhalgar they dueled, both shedding their frustrations and worries in the trade of their blows.

Afterwards, Najas sat alone in the shade, thinking deeply on the upcoming battle. She knew how it would end. She would be the one forced to confront Zenos. She was the only one who could hold her own against him.

She could fight him. She had many times. Maybe she could even win.

But could she kill him?

Najas bit her lower lip. She promised Alisaie she would. The Resistance wasn’t victorious until he was dead. She knew that. And yet she was apprehensive.

In the camp, Alliance and Resistance soldiers alike trained side-by-side, fighting with more determination and fury than Najas had seen out of them before. They did not have the same doubts she did. If they could best him, they would sever his head with smiles on their faces.

Those doubts were still in her mind as they left the Reach and headed past the Lochs to the Peaks, whereupon, from their fortress, the palace could be seen standing tall and proud along the mountainside – Garlean flags swaying in the wind.

Everyone had come for this battle. Merylwb, Kann-E-Senna, Aymeric, and Raubahn. They all gathered around a war table, keeping close eyes on the enemy fortress behind them. They had exchanged a few words before getting right down to business.

“The enemy seems content to remain within the palace walls and await the inevitable siege. Open conflict thus far has been sporadic,” Raubahn started. “Whether Zenos is biding his time until reinforcements can arrive, or baiting us into a trap, none can say. We know better than to trust his word.”

Najas curled her finger over her chin, her mind lost in thought. She couldn’t say either. She only knew, either way, he was looking forward to the moment that their forces would be at his gate. He dutifully awaited the moment their blades would cross once more – the other baying for one’s death.

“Regardless, we can ill afford to present Garlemald the opportunity to ready her legions. It would be in our best interest to haste a swift resolution,” Pippin added.

Lyse nodded in agreement. “A long siege wouldn’t be good for the people of the city, either. If food becomes scarce, we all know who will starve first.”

“Just so,” Raubahn nodded. “Therefore, I propose we commit our forces to an all-out assault. What say you?”

All the respective leaders nodded in affirmation, the Scions among them. They were all of one mind, and thus, the battle plans proceeded. When they had relayed the plan, Najas turned from the war council and stared upon the gates of the city, something unknown swirling within the pit of her stomach.

Alisaie stood beside her, staring through the night at the same sight. “Can you do it?”

Najas remained silent.

*

In order to gain entry to the Ala Mhigan Quarter and infiltrate the imperial research facility where Krile was being held, Najas and her comrades needed to find a way to circumvent the towering walls and heavy gates which surrounded it. Fortunately, Wiscar – a youth from Ala Gannha whom Najas inspired to join the Resistance – had surmised the existence of a tunnel connecting the Loch Seld and a well within the district. All they needed to do was locate the tunnel. And though Najas was not a strong swimmer, she now understood the basics needed to complete this goal. Even if it surmised of her preforming the doggy-paddle to war.

They found the tunnel deep within the Loch, but just as Najas was about to dive in with her comrades, Urianger thought to make an unexpected appearance. The Archon duly explained that after listening to Alisaie’s tale of her defeat at Fordola’s hands, he was inspired to fashion a new and improved aetheric syphon, which he believed will enable them to deprive her of her preternatural prescience.

Though Urianger seemed unwilling to disclose the device’s precise function, Najas received it gratefully, conscious that she may have use of it during the coming mission.

Sure enough, in the depths of the Loch Seld, Najas and Alisaie located a tunnel leading east towards the Ala Mhigan quarter. For all their sakes, Najas prayed the tunnel remained wide enough for them to pass through.

As predicted, the tunnel connected to a well within the walls of the residential district.

The three of them picked their way through the Quarter and came at last to the great western gates. With the pull of a lever, the gates swung open, and the Resistance fights, led by Alphinaud, poured through. As they engaged the imperials, Najas and her fellow Scions headed for the Research Facility, where Krile was being held.

As expected, Fordola was waiting there for them, along with a squadron of imperial soldiers. Thankfully, however, Najas came prepared. Activating Urianger’s device, Najas watched the Skull’s commander reel about in confusion, and it soon became clear that she could no longer anticipate Najas’s attacks.

Though she was yet a fearsome opponent, Najas was the Warrior of Light. After a vicious battle, Najas emerged victorious, subduing the Skull’s commander and securing the facility.

Najas gazed once more upon the terrible machine as Alisaie made to rescue Krile from one of the pods at the base of the machine.

“You’ve seen this machine… aye?” Fordola questioned from where she knelt upon the floor.

Najas ignored her.

Lyse moved behind Fordola to tie her hands behind her back, her face pressed into the cold stone floor. “I’m taking her back with us. Alive. She’s going to answer for what she’s done.”

Fordola released a low, deep laugh. “Look at you, talking like you’ve already won. Zenos is going to tear your apart. He commands a power echoing that of the eikons.”

Najas turned away from Krile then, staring at Fordola intensely.

“What are you talking about?” Lyse carefully questioned.

“The hunt, you stupid cow – I’m talking about the hunt! He’d said you’d come,” she said, her eyes meeting Najas’s. “And here you are, his willing prey. You… you’re his greatest beast, after all.”

That didn’t sit well with her.

*

They returned to Raubahn after that to discuss their next plan of action, but Najas already knew her role. Now that the city had been conquered, their forces would pool into the palace, and Najas would lead the charge to the throne room.

As she stared up at the palace, apprehension swirled within her gut as she thought back on Fordola’s words. What had Zenos done to grant himself a power rivaling that of an eikon? Did he really think so highly of their hunt that he would imbue himself with such power?

_Athena._

The voice spoke again, but this time pain did not accompany it. It seemed Aulus, in all his faults, had been true to his word.

_Apprehension doesn’t suit you. Especially with something so… menial._

Najas gritted her teeth and turned away from the others. “What do you want?” She hissed.

_Oh. So, the great Warrior of Light finally deigns to acknowledge my presence! I should be grateful._

She didn’t bother gracing that with a response. She was partly too shocked that he had heard her.

_In the final days of our great city you had much more composure. And here you are now, cracking at the edges. Because of what… love?_

“I don’t love him.”

 _If you say so,_ the voice said dismissively.

Najas grit her teeth, glancing over her shoulder to make sure none of the Scions were paying attention to her. “Who are you and what do you want? Just leave me alone.”

The voice chuckled. _It’s your fault we’re connected like this. But so be it. I will leave you be. For_ now, _at least. You provide_ some _entertainment now and again, and I would be remiss to miss it._

“Who are you?” Najas repeated, less patiently this time.

_For now, worry about yourself. Your precious hunt begins._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a short chapter. I didn't want to spend too much time on in-game cutscene events so that we can get right to the good stuff


	12. Wild Roses

The last thing Najas needed was her mind clouded with the thoughts of whatever nonsense the voice in her head spoke. But he had one thing right, the hunt _was_ beginning.

She was to leas the main assault – to break down the palace doors herself and clear the way for both Alliance and Ala Mhigan soldiers. She would be the torch guiding them in the darkness of chaos – the anchor in the storm of battle.

With Ishgardian and Ul’Dahn thaumaturges, the help of some good old fashioned canons, and Hien and the Domans distracting the Garlean machines, they punched a hole right through the front gates of Ala Mhigo.

Alphinaud and Alisaie insisted on coming with Najas, but she merely held out her hand in protest as she walked up the steps to the inner city, her hand gripping the sword of her rapier, and her eyes focused ahead. She wasn’t sneaking in this time.

The two stayed behind, Alisaie well aware of the look in her eyes.

Imperials charged forward as Najas was the first to step foot into the city. They came at her with swords and hammers and magicks, and Najas took them out before even the Alliance or Resistance could catch up to her. She would be the head of the charge, yes. But she would not lead it.

She cut the path for them, leaving naught but corpses in her wake. When asked about it later, Najas would admit she did not even fully remember her war path to the palace. It was all a blur in her mind as she avoided long-ranged artillery, facing imperial man and machine alike. A great number that should have left her lifeless body in their streets, lost amidst the chaos, but which she took with each stride.

The beast had been set free.

Due to her heritage, many Garleans had called her a beast or an animal. She had hated it back then, but now she figured they were right. Her claws were dripping blood – the red splattered against her clothing and face.

She took no joy in this battle. No remorse either. She had a destination and everything in her way was merely an obstacle.

Aulus stood in her way at one point, attempting to sever her soul from her body. Najas had frozen him then shattered the ice.

She started to recognize the corridors which she traversed, though this time magitek security attempted to stop her. Nothing could. She was a hurricane sparing nothing in her path. She was reminded of her battle at Cartineau. Explosions and fire and blood. No end to it. No end to her enemies.

Najas didn’t know when she separated from the others, but she suddenly realized she was alone – just like seven years ago. Back then she had been on her last legs – blood and dirt covering her face, ears ringing from the explosions around her and no friends in sight. She screamed over the roaring sounds, her voice drowned in the noise.

Now…. There was silence.

Two goliath magitek machines lay fritzing and still beside her on marble checkered floor, the faint sound of running water behind her. She was breathless, sweat gathered on her brow and her blood running hot. In front of her lay the doors she knew would lead her to the throne room.

She heard the sound of clanking metal and turned her head, finding her sword-arm shaking. Gently raising her trembling hand, Najas stared at it in an almost-fascination. When was the last time she’d been so afraid? Cato? Cartineau?

Najas grabbed her wrist in attempt to make it stop.

She closed her eyes.

_I have always been here. I’ve never left._

Her voice spoke again, from that long-forgotten void of cold and loneliness.

_I used to think things were so linear – so…. Simple. But that’s not the truth. The world is complicated, and it can be cruel - and we had the cruelest end. But we are never gone. We are in everything around you; scattered around like pieces of snow or rain or dust._

Najas felt a tear roll down her cheek.

_We are all trapped in a dream. Traps of our own devices. Some of us made ours. Some of us were born in ours. I used to think we were always doomed to remain in those traps. That we were creatures in a cage of a higher being, banging on the bars. We create our own hells. We can’t create our heavens, but sometimes we can glimpse them. Through love… through sorrow… sometimes we’re lucky enough to see a glimmer._

“Have I…said that before…?” Najas wondered aloud.

She wondered when her cheeks got so wet.

No voice responded.

Wiping away her tears and calming her trembling hand, Najas took a deep breath and stared at the doors before her.

_But the worst dreams you can never wake from._

Najas felt as though she were drifting in that endless void as she took footsteps towards the door – the metal of her boots against the marble soundless in her own ears. Even the swinging hinges and groaning metal of the door was silent to her as she cast them open, striding in as though she belonged.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, unobstructed by the destruction and death going on below. The Garlean banners hung proudly, and Najas couldn’t help but see the ghost of a room she couldn’t quite remember.

She walked carefully to the center of the room, eyes on the man seated on the throne, who watched with a wry smile upon his lips. Zenos stood from the throne and walked to meet her, katana in hand.

He stopped a yalm away and Najas felt that trembling in her hand begin once more.

‘ _The worst dreams you can never wake from’,_ Najas thought to herself.

They exchanged no words.

Unable to bear it, though it had only been several heartbeats, Najas attacked first. There was more in this fight than simple rage. This wasn’t the Reach nor was this like back in castle town. She would make him feel her agony. That he did this to her. That she allowed herself to fall into these pastimes even though she knew how it would end.

All he cared about was his hunt – his beast. But it had been more than that to Najas.

Their blades clashed and sparked, noiseless in Najas’s ears. The fight went by in a blur of Garleans steel – of streaking golden hair. The whirling of blades – footsteps in sync like a waltz upon a palace ballroom floor.

He slashed at her and she lept out of the way, leaping backwards on to the seat of the throne. She vaulted off the back, landing and twisting, her blade already sliding through the air as Zenos sidestepped her, his blade coming down in an arch for her neck. Najas swung out of the way, rolling across the marble before springing back to her feet, her blade meeting his in a parry as she swirled, never missing a heartbeat of movement.

They danced around the other, the clashing on their swords the music. She recalled her training with her father, how his technique was so different than anything she’d ever seen before. He twirled and flipped and danced around his opponent, a graceful foe that could never be beaten.

The longer the fight dragged on, the more Najas lost her grace. The swings of her arm were no longer elegant, the steps of her feet no longer dancing to a rhythm in her mind. Her strokes were broad and hard, coming down with a force threatening to snap her blade in two. Her footsteps solid as though beating at a drum.

Her father had taught her to fight to protect people she cared about. He didn’t tell her what to do when that person was your enemy. He didn’t prepare her – didn’t tell her that every second was agony – your own limbs fighting their movements, your own mind screaming at you – at them.

Harder. Faster. She swung her blade with fervour, her expression nothing short of dangerous.

With a scream, Najas brought down her blade.

Zenos stumbled backward, pure surprise on his face as he dug his blade into the ground to catch himself, that surprise melting into pure delight when he realized the trickle of blood down his cheek. He stood back to his formidable height. “Yes. Such ferocity! Such tenacity! I am loath to recall how disappointed I was when first we fought.” He said his words through deep breaths, proving just how much of an effort their battle was even to him. “But finally… _finally_ after bathing in the blood and offal of your enemies, finally you prove yourself as worthy prey for the hunt.”

Najas felt her fists furl, her very core trembling.

“It fills you even now, doesn’t it? The hunger. To bite down on my jugular, to feel its warmth fill your mouth and run over even as you drink deep. Good, good! This is the beast I have longed to face! As you sharpened your claws, I, too sought newfound strength. Come! This is no place for our final contest. The heavens shall bear witness to our dance.

Najas watched him go, quickly disappearing from her sight. She allowed herself to slump then and catch her breath, wiping sweat from her brow and blood from her lip. Her breath was shaking and her hands trembling.

 _Enough,_ she wanted to scream. _Please… enough…_

 _Tear him apart,_ another voice in her mind whispered. _Destroy him. The taste of his blood will be sweet._

Najas shook that voice out of her head, taking cautious footsteps forward. She reached the throne, finding the room stretched farther beyond it to a pair of double doors thrown wide open, revealing to Najas a breath of the brilliant sight that lay beyond.

She urged her steps to be more sure, her gaze more stoic.

 _Falls from grace are never elegant,_ that male voice said.

“Fuck off,” Najas hissed. She wasn’t in the mood for this. Not when she could taste her own blood in her mouth, when _his_ dripped from the tip of her rapier.

Beyond the doors lay a beautiful garden of red flowers – a terrace overlooking the mountains and canyons. Just as red and vibrant as blood. A sea of them before her, a too familiar sight.

“Welcome – to the royal menagerie,” Zenos’s voice said, appearing from the other end of the gardens. Najas started careful steps toward him. “The king of ruin built this place for his foreign queen. He kept it filled with familiar creatures from her homeland. They bored me all.”

“Enough….” Najas said, clenching her fist. Her chest felt tight as though bindings restricted her breathing. “Is this what you want?” She questioned, looking at him through her eyebrows. “Is this _really_ what you want?”

He tilted his head slightly, regarding her through narrowed eyes. “You act as though there was ever any other outcome to this. What did you think? That we would put away our differences and steal away the quiet hours together?”

The words stung her more than any blade could. She had been a fool thinking it could end any other way. Think that it wouldn’t have to end like this. What did she think would have happened?

“And if I returned with you to Garlemald?”

A chuckle released from him at that. “Garlemald, Ala Mhigo and Doma be damned. What I do is not for them. What I do is to satiate my own desire.”

Najas swallowed, thinking on his words. He was selfish, that was true – but to not even care for the outcome of Illsabard? She grabbed her rapier and threw it to the ground beside her then took slow and calculated steps towards Zenos. She felt the tip of his blade rest beneath her chin, a sting where the blade met her flesh.

She didn’t look at him, instead to the sheath at his side. She pushed away the blade and grabbed one of the two remaining swords in the sheath and turned away from him, walking back to her original spot, running her hand along the flat of the blade.

Najas closed her eyes, biting back the tears that threatened to flow. She took a deep breath and turned around to face him, finding a smile of delight upon his lips. This was all he craved. He didn’t truly _care_ for her, but the thrill she could bring him. Nothing would change even if she were to spill her feelings to him.

She shrugged off her heavy coat, casting the black fabric to the ground along with her chest piece and took up her trained stance. Zenos was not the only one who knew the ways of foreign blades and fighting styles. She had trained with Hien and Yugiri, after all.

“Yes… _finally,”_ he said, taking up his own stance.

Closing her eyes, Najas calmed her mind, casting aside all thoughts that would render her the loser of this battle. She had to give it her all. For Eorzea – for the Scions.

 _And what of yourself?_ Asked the voice.

Nothing Najas had done in the past seven years had been for herself. They never could be.

She was cursed to tear herself apart if it meant the good for everyone but her.

Maybe that’s what she was doing right now. That tightness in her chest had only increased – her heart in her throat and a stinging in her eyes.

The Warrior of Light could never be selfish. They could never do anything for themselves.

But this was a doomed fate, even if she were not Hydaelyn’s champion.

Najas charged first with a scream, bringing the blade down hard and fast. Zenos blocked the blow with a wild look in his eyes as he swung at her, Najas dodging out of the way before returning the sentiment.

She spun, the force of her blows threatening to break the blade, but she would not relent. This is what he wanted. This is what he wanted.

He met her every blow with one of his own, their blades singing as they danced through the red flowers. Zenos had not landed a hit yet, but Najas still hurt as though he had. She felt as though each blow were a blow upon herself.

That piece of his aether within her – it sparked and sang and set her core ablaze with a painful fire. He was euphoric and she was in agony.

There was not a second of relief between them. No break between their blades – each baying for the other’s blood upon their steel. She felt a sting upon her cheek but did not relent and neither did he.

With a yell, Najas leapt into the air, aiming for a punch instead of the sweep of her blade. They both went down, red petals rising into the air from the force of their landing. Zenos spun, pinning Najas beneath him and raising his blade before bringing it down.

Gritting her teeth, Najas caught the blade in her hand, ignoring the pain and blood that gushed in her grip as she stopped it from lowering to her heart. Zenos was smiling a top of her, that wild look still gracing his gaze.

Grunting, Najas raked her nails across his cheek and kicked him in the side, throwing him off. Her grip released the sword as she threw it aside and stumbled back to her feet, wheezing from his knee which had been pressed against her sternum. She granted him no reprieve, punching him straight in the jaw and landing a kick straight to his centre chest.

He caught her next attack, his hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her into his own punch before slamming her into a nearby tree, using her own momentum to bring his knee into her gut.

Najas wheezed and coughed before leaping at him once more, both rolling upon the ground before they each recovered their blades, each pointed at the throat of the other as they stood amongst the flowers.

She was breathless, bleeding and blinking blood out of her eyes. He charged at her, and Najas took his attack in stride, taking it fully and open. She felt the sting and the pain of his blade, but also the rush of aether through her veins.

Najas looked up at Zenos, at the registered look in his eyes realizing his mistake.

Her attack hit him square in the chest, her aether multiplying her blow with a force that sent him flying backwards, slamming into the ground with a force that shook the earth. And there, he lay upon the ground.

“Najas!”

Najas looked behind her to see Lyse and Alphinaud running towards her, taking up their defensive stances once they spotted Zenos.

“Are you alright?” Lyse questioned.

Najas didn’t respond.

Her step faltered slightly, pain blossoming through her very veins themselves, but Najas held herself up right, taking careful breaths as her lungs begged for air.

Carefully, Zenos stirred, gathering his sword in his hand and stood, but he faltered, coughing blood. He got to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth as he staggered slightly. “Ah… ha…so the hunter has become the hunted.” He looked up to the bright blue sky – the same colour of his eyes. “And yet… there is only joy. Transcendent joy I have never known. How invigorating… this feeling.”

Joy is not what Najas felt.

“Is that was this was all about?” Lyse demanded. “All this death and destruction? So you could _feel_ something?”

Zenos’s eyes regarded Lyse. “Meaningless?” He questioned. “Men die so that others may live. Those who survive are stronger for it. Not that you could ever understand. To have stood upon this great stage of fools…. To have played my part to perfection.” His eyes met Najas next. “Oh this… this moment… let it be enshrined it eternity. My heart… beating out of time. So vivid. So clear. So real.”

He raised his own sword to his neck and Najas felt her heart forget to beat.

“No!” She cried.

“Farewell, my first friend… my enemy,” he said.

Najas rushed forward, willing her feet to take her as fast as they dared.

He smiled at her. The first _true_ smile Najas had ever seen from him.

He would only see grief and terror in her eyes.

His blade ran across his throat.

Najas fell to her knees beside him, eyes wide, throat chocked, unsure of what to do. Blood pooled from the gash in the side of his neck. His eyes were closed.

“No…no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” she whispered. Her hands clamped over the wound for all the good it would do. It stained her hands, his hair, and the flowers beneath them. “No….no… please no…” she started to sob.

She took his face in her hands, leaving behind bloody handprints.

“Najas…?” Lyse carefully questioned.

Najas stared into the face of Zenos. People often said the dead looked like they were sleeping. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked dead.

With a cry breaking from her lips, Najas gathered his limp body in her hands, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck, gently rocking herself back and forth.

Tears slipped down her cheeks with abandon and she cried for the first time in seven years.

She loved him. She really had loved him. But she had been too afraid to even admit it to herself, and now it was too late. He was dead. Dead by his own hand – for he could not comprehend a moment past this.

“Najas? Why are you-“ Lyse’s voice was cut off, but Najas wasn’t paying attention.

She pressed her forehead to his, feeling the imprint of his third eye, her own tears slipping onto his cheeks.

Najas cried harder than she ever had in her life. Her face was a mess, no doubt. With a shaking breath, she raised her head to look at his face once more, his jaw and lower cheek stained red by her own hands covered in his own blood, his head lolled to the side. Sniffing, she brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

_There was a moment like this from long ago. You admitted to me that you wished you could become a moth yourself. To fly as high as them and escape your sorrows._

Najas felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Alisaie standing over her, understanding written in her furrowed brows.

She tried to breathe, but each attempt was met with a new sob.

_The worst dreams you can never wake from._


	13. My Hands

Loss.

Loss was something Najas knew well. Her oldest and cruelest friend was a funeral bell. Not that there was a funeral. The best they gave him was a stone coffin atop a mound hidden away with the Ala Mhigan dead to avoid desecration until they could open non-confrontational communications with Garlemald and return their prince’s body.

The next few days for Najas went by in a blur. She attended celebrations, parties and Alliance meetings, feeling like a ghost trapped in the physical world. That piece of his aether was still attached to her and it _hurt._

She faked a smile and confident nods but was graciously spared the pressure of recounting their ‘glorious battle’, due to most people being unaware she had recovered her voice. She wasn’t sure she could speak of it without crying.

Alisaie had explained the situation to Lyse, though not the _true_ version. In the end, Lyse suspected that Najas, overcome with the burdens of the war, and no man to trial for justice, she had misplaced her anger for sorrow. Lyse herself had been melancholy when discovering Zenos’s fate, having wanting to make him answer for his crimes, so she understood and accepted Alisaie’s explanation, though Alisaie herself gave Najas a knowing look.

She could see through her façade – eyes void of life. Smiles that did not reflect in her eyes. Smiles that were too tight. A posture that was too stiff. The gleam in her eyes when they would toast to the death of the imperial viceroy.

The very first night Najas had stolen away to her room and sobbed into his coat. She had cried herself to sleep, clutching the last thing she had left of him. The second night she spent at his grave, and though her tears were more reasonable, she could not stop them.

She had sat on the ground, one arm draped over the corner and leaning against the carved stone, the lid heavy and shut tight. She had brought no flowers, but now wore the coat wherever she went.

Najas hadn’t visited the grave since.

Even the voice had the grace to leave her alone.

She wondered if Garlemald was in mourning, or if they did not care. He was not a beloved prince, after all. She wondered if they would at least afford him the honor of their funeral bells. She remembered the day they rang for her father.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Alisaie’s voice sounded as she marched up the hill. She wore a thick coat to brave the Ala Mhigan cold nights, but her arms were still wrapped tightly around her chest. “If the other scions see you here…” She sighed and sat down beside Najas, clasping her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Najas had looked at her with weeping eyes, but the sobs had ceased. She reached for Alisaie’s hand. All she needed right now was a hand to hold. The hand of a friend who understood.

They returned to her home in the lavender beds for a few days while Najas recovered, both emotionally and physically. Zenos had injured her several times over, but she refused to heal the wounds more than necessary. She wanted them to scar. She wanted his reminders.

The nick on her upper lip, the small scar across her left eyebrow, the gash across her abdomen and the puncture on her shoulder. She made sure they scarred. She had never wanted for scars before. Whenever she saw Cato’s reminder at first she used to smash mirrors, hands clawing at her skin in blind fury. When she bore scars from Gaius or Nidhogg she hadn’t cared. Now these scars were precious to her.

Najas did all of the cooking. It helped her focus on something other than sorrow and she even taught Alisaie a few recipes, though the young Elezen’s cooking abilities were atrocious. With her help, Alisaie was the hand to help lead Najas out of the darkness and regain herself. It took weeks to think about him without crying – two months to get back into her regular routine with the scions, but she knew she would never feel normal again. She knew that since the moment her father died. Ever since Haurchefant.

Every time someone she cared for died, Najas felt them take a piece of her with them. Eventually, she wondered if her beloved dead would one-by-one tear her apart.

She resumed her Scion duties, helping Lyse and the Alliance stabilize Ala Mhigo under new and uncertain leadership. This would not be a regime like the empire, nor like the Ala Mhigo of old. The new Ala Mhigo was a democracy.

Of course, there were many who rejected the new Ala Mhigo – the Anata being one who summoned a primal in the palace in the middle of a peace meeting. Najas had been there, thankfully right of mind, and able to strike down the golden goddess for the _second_ time.

She wondered if people would ever learn there was not a single eikon she could not best.

Sorrow was never far behind, however. She would think she was okay, and then it would sneak up on her out of nowhere. In panic attacks, in sudden bursts of sadness; cooking and suddenly finding herself bawling.

If anything, Najas wished to have him back just to tell him goodbye.

And then came the news.

Someone desecrated the grave.

Najas and Lyse had raced to the scene, finding the lid broken and thrown off and the coffin empty of a corpse. Lyse had been in a fit of rage, wondering who, even if the dead had been a real bastard in life, would desecrate a grave.

The Warrior of Light had caught a detail that passed even Lyse’s eye, however. The coffin had not been broken _in_ to. They wouldn’t have need of breaking it, but simply pushing the lid. It was broken from the inside. Something wanted _out._

“Are you suggesting Zenos has risen from the dead?” Lyse demanded.

“No,” Najas said, fists furling at her side in rage. “But who do we know that can possess bodies?”

Lyse’s eyes went wide, her hand flying over her heart as she looked to the coffin, the shock fading into equal anger. “Ascians.”

“Elidibus,” Najas clarified.

Lahabrea and Inyogrym and Nahbriales were dead. The only other Ascian Najas knew of to cause such a ruckus was Elidibus. Though, what he would want with the crown prince of Garlemald’s body, Najas was left grasping at straws.

They returned to the Alliance to report their findings, and it wasn’t long before they started intercepting reports from Garlemald, official and not, claiming the crown prince was indeed alive and recovering in the royal palace.

Najas had never thought too much of Elidibus as an enemy. He had appeared once or twice, said a few things, but had never directly interfered with the Scions or their business. He had claimed to be an emissary, the olive branch between the Scions and the Ascians.

However, now, Najas wanted his head on a stick.

“I’ve never seen you so angry at an Ascian,” Alisaie commented.

Najas crossed her arms and glanced at her friend through the corners of her eyes. “You never saw me with Nabriales. Though… that was more so an annoyance.” She glanced back ahead, her eyes narrowing at the recollection of him. “He annoyed the shit out of me.”

Alisaie released a chuckle that caused Najas to relax slightly, though if it were up to her, she’d already be marching to Ilsabard, ready to punch Elidibus in the throat and force him to find a new host – if she didn’t destroy him completely first.

“It’s nice to hear you speak,” Alisaie said suddenly.

“It’s still a struggle,” Najas admitted. She could now hold a full conversation, but by the end of the day her throat was sore and her old scar stung. “It was Zenos who first got me to speak again,” she admitted.

Alisaie’s brows furrowed and she brought a curled finger to her lips. “Did he? Inquisitive.”

“It was nothing special. A fit of rage, really.” Her voice was already growing weak, as she had stated her input at several meetings already. But she had been teaching Alisaie in sign language, which she caught on to very quickly.

“I’m sorry, Najas. The way it ended…” Her voice trailed off, though it was not to spare Najas her thoughts. Alisaie was always keen on speaking her mind, whether it hurt or not. “Do you hate him?”

Najas’s brow furrowed and she turned to her friend. “What prompt that question?”

“I’ve been studying the theories of grief and-” She cut herself off when she noticed Najas’s pointed look. “When my grandfather died…” Alisaie sighed. “I knew he did what he did to save everyone at Cartineau. Everyone would have died otherwise. But he still sacrificed himself and I- I couldn’t help but to hate him for it. To think that he could have found another way. And he did what he did for the greater good. But you… He didn’t sacrifice himself for the greater good.”

Najas stared directly ahead, her eyes focused on the setting sun as it slid behind the golden sands of the lochs. “A little bit,” she admitted, feeling a sting in her eyes. She couldn’t speak anymore. ‘ _I hate that was his only solution. That he couldn’t imagine a world past that moment. That he couldn’t think of me. He’s always been selfish though, I suppose.’_

Alisaie gripped Najas’s hand, and when Najas glanced over, she found her brow set, her eyes cast to the ground, and her lips forming a hard line. When she looked up at Najas, determination shown through her eyes. “Always be by my side, Najas, and I will always be by yours. Promise me.” She squeezed harder as though to implant her words.

Najas smiled, but couldn’t help but to tease her. ‘ _Are you proposing?’_

Alisaie’s eyes went wide before she realized Najas was simply jesting. “You are insufferable. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

‘ _I promise.’_

“Say it. Please.”

Najas was surprised by the sincerity and desperate tone which Alisaie spoke in, but she understood. Alisaie had lost people too, and if Najas were to lose Alisaie, she thought that would be the final straw. She would not recover from such a loss.

Smiling, Najas squeezed Alisaie’s hand in confirmation. “I promise.”

Alisaie seemed relieved. “Good. I know it sounds silly but I… We’re the only ones to have each other’s backs. To pull each other out from that pit of darkness. If we ever find ourselves there, we know there’s another to help us back.”

Najas nodded. ‘ _I’m going hunting,’_ she said.

“Now?” Alisaie asked, eyebrows raising. “The sun is setting.”

‘ _Not in Gridania.’_

“Shall I accompany?”

Najas placed her hand on her head. ‘ _Not this time.’_

While Alisaie usually accompanied Najas on hunts for food, as Najas preferred fresh meat over market meat, that was not the type of hunt Najas had in mind, and though she’d no doubt of the Elezen’s abilities, this was something Najas wanted to do on her own.

Alisaie nodded with no protest. “Alright then, I shall return to my brother, then. Who knows what sort of messes he’s gotten himself into while I’ve been gone.”

Najas kissed her on the forehead in way of farewell, then teleported to the central shroud, her shoulders slumping at the loss of aether such a long distance tolled on her. She stretched her limbs, running through a quick routine before she pushed up the sleeves of her fitted coat, and stalked off into the woods.

She spotted several tracks of beasts she once might of thought would make good quarry, but which she now ignored and headed deeper into the woods to the point that she could no longer see the sun. They stretched hundreds of feet above her, their canopies thick and colliding and merging with each other, forcing Najas to pull out a lantern.

These were the deepest parts of the Twevelveswood, where the creatures within had evolved over centuries to adapt to the constant darkness. Few dared to travel within for the beasts and monsters that prowled and lurked around the trees and hid within the brush, but Najas trusted her senses to warn her of animal ambush.

She needed no tracks to find her quarry – its stench was enough to follow its trail. It caused her nose to twitch and itch. The stench was so strong it was almost a physical trail that she followed. Its footprints hinted at its size, but Najas had already seen it once before when she had been weaker. It bested her and she had barely escaped with her life when she had gotten lost in these woods on her first travel to Gridania – but she was stronger now.

Najas spied it a few dozen yalms away, lit by the light of her lantern, but unreactive. Due to the darkness, creatures that did not gain night vision were blind. It stared in her direction, wide, round, bloodshot eyes.

It was a giant boar with a pelt riddled with mud and dirt, twigs and refuse and blood of previous victims or animals that had gotten in its way. Its mouth currently chomped down on a large raspberry bush, eating it twigs and all.

As quietly as she could, Najas set down the lantern and unsheathed her rapier, taking up her stance. Her heart quickened when she saw its ears twitch at the noise, its entire body freezing. Najas practically held her breath.

It resumed eating.

She was probably foolish to go after such a hunt alone. She knew a small squad that had been wiped out by the thing – all of them seasoned hunters – and here she was, daring to face it alone, even after the promise she made to Alisaie. But she needed to do this.

Was it something she needed to prove to herself? Some itch she needed to relieve? She wasn’t sure. None of those answers felt right. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t leave her alone, so here she was.

Not letting the thing catch her first, Najas sprung at the beast, charging forward and plunging her sword right into its eye. It wailed and shrieked, rearing up on its hinds, head flailing in abandon.

Gritting her teeth, Najas dug her feet into the pink flesh of its cheek and vaulted herself off the beast, taking her sword with her. The boar screeched and ran in abandon, throwing its body against several trees before sniffing the air and facing Najas, its hooves clawing at the dirt.

Najas readied herself and as it charged forward, tusks ready to impale, Najas slid under it, her rapier thrust upwards and opening its belly as it did all the momentum and force for her. It squealed again, but her cut hadn’t been as deep as she hoped for such a large creature, and it reared again. Najas barely avoided its tusks that time.

When it had charged past her, Najas made a quick strike for its hide, plunging her sword through a rib before yanking back out, cursing that she had missed the heart.

The boar was furious, stomping and throwing its head about, hoping to catch the creature it couldn’t see. Lyse’s trick had worked on many enemies – but taking a direct hit from that thing was not something Najas wanted to experience.

Yet for its size, the thing was much quicker than Najas anticipated. The air was knocked from her lungs as it threw her against a tree and immediately charged right for her. Without any breath, Najas rolled out of the way, gasping without any time for reprieve. She spun on the creature, bringing her sword down into its eye once more, yanking with enough force to yank the entire eyeball out.

She immediately gagged as she beheld the unintended sight, desperately trying to avoid vomiting. “Oh… Oh _Zodiark,”_ she cursed, heaving at the sight of the rampaging boar, its eye hanging from the socket. She almost wanted to pop it back in just to spare herself the painful sight of it.

After taking several large dry heaves behind the safety of a tree, Najas returned to her quarry, painfully avoiding looking in _that_ direction.

She readied her blade and rushed. Each of her attacks were quick and precise, but even slices that should have been fatal only angered the beast. Najas cursed. Her blade was not meant for cutting deep and severing. It wasn’t strong enough to properly piece the gigan boar’s hide.

Her weapon had never been an issue before – but she’d also never faced a foe with such a thick hide. Even Nidhogg wasn’t so invulnerable once you loosened and discarded a few of his scales and exposed vitals.

It was charging at her now, bleeding profusely, her blade covered in its thick blood. She knew she had one shot. She had to pierce her blade between its eyes – as deep as the blade would go and put an end to the creature once and for all.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she took up the stance as the ground quaked beneath the hooves. She calculated the odds of her pulling this off and didn’t exactly find them in her favour, but she had faced worse odds and emerged the victor.

It grew closer and closer alarmingly fast. Najas knew she would have to time this perfectly. Too late or too slow and she’d end up impaled on a tusk that would tear her in two disgusting pieces.

She closed her eyes, relying on her senses.

Najas opened her eyes, ready to spring as the creature was just a few yalms from her when another figure leapt from the trees, their sword coming down hard and fast upon the boar’s neck, almost severing it entirely, spraying the trees with gore and blood.

She stood breathless and wide eyed, her battle stance dropping entirely as she beheld the figure before her whom regarded their blade, wiping the blood off with the head of the boar, its eye hanging out and its tongue lolled in the grass.

Her eyes narrowed when they beheld the uniform they wore – yellow and brown – the colours of the Twin Adder. But what was the Twin Adder doing so deep within the woods? No one dared venture in here except her. She tried to see their face, but their back was to her and a hood covered their head.

“I calculated your chances of survival and I found them lacking.”

Najas’s heart skipped. She recognized that voice.

She didn’t pause to consider if she was wrong. She didn’t consider if they merely sounded alike. She was running across the clearing, her heels digging into the soft earth as she propelled herself forward.

The man was expecting her. He had turned to her, and though she could not see wholly their face, there was a familiar smirk upon familiar lips. Their arms were outstretched, welcoming her and she sprinted toward them.

She threw herself towards the man, wrapping her arms around their neck and burying her face in the crook of their neck. It wasn’t long after she felt those arms wrap around her body and a chin lowered to rest on the top of her head.

Najas’s heart slammed against her ribs, her eyes squeezed shut.

 _Please don’t let this be a dream,_ she thought.

“My, so overjoyed to see me, are you?” His familiar voice spoke again with the familiar timbre.

Najas broke away, breathless, and threw off the hood they wore. It was… it was _him._ It was Zenos! But something was off. Something she couldn’t put her finger on as she studied his form. His face was his but… too angular. His body muscular but too lean. Yet it was him. His voice, his hair, messy from the hood, but golden and cascading to his lower back. Yet his ears… they were Elezen ears….

“I don’t… I don’t understand…” She said through deep breaths.

Her eyes shot to his neck, searching for the scar that should bear the markings of his blade, but found it smooth and unharmed.

His hands still held on to her waist – those beautiful eyes she thought she’d never see again staring deeply into her own. “I would assume it would have to do with my experiments on the Echo. I closed my eyes and then I opened then again. In this… boring _husk.”_

Najas regarded his form once more. He was just as tall, but his shoulders should have been broader, his cheekbones less angular, hands softer.

“I attempted to find my body only to find some Ascian had stolen it away.”

Najas was blinking, trying to comprehend everything he was saying. She grasped his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re real.”

She tilted his face from side to side, inspecting every angle, finding features that were the same and others that seemed off. He didn’t enjoy it but he allowed her to, making her freeze when his hands found her face, his fingers tracing her new scars – his thumb brushing along her lower lip.

“It really is you…” She breathed. “How… how is this….”

She recalled, from Aulus’s book, that those who were exceptionally skilled and possessed the Echo were granted immortality. Is that what Zenos had unlocked with all his experiments? A way to transcend mortality itself?

Once her wonder had faded, her relief and her guilt; anger was left in its place. She slapped him across the cheek. “Why are you such a selfish prick?” She demanded, finding amusement at the surprise in his eyes. “You left me! You left me _alone! Oh, look at me, I’m Zenos! I’ll never feel joy again so I’m gonna_ kill _myself!_ I’ll fucking kill you!” Najas spat, already ready to wrap her hands around his throat.

The only thing that made her stop and regain herself was his chuckle and his thumb which brushed alongside the bottom of her jaw. “Ah, you’re right,” he said with that smirk. “I never should have left such a beautiful beast.”

Whatever protest or verbal slap she had ready at hand was lost the moment she felt his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, surprised by the gentleness of which he graces her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him, all her aggression forgotten.

It was such a gentleness Najas never thought possible from him, one she savoured every second of, believing she’d never be able to kiss him again. Some things were different, but in the end it was still him, still his lips that hungrily met hers.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and before the menagerie she might have been ashamed, but now she paid no heed to it.

“Are you really so sentimental, Warrior of Light?” he questioned when he felt it.

Najas felt his breath mingle with hers, his lips which were close enough to brush hers, felt his nose which brushed against her cheek. This closeness she craved and thought she was deprived of for the rest of eternity.

She loved him. She wanted to admit that – thought that if she were given the chance to see him again it would be the first thing she spouted. But he was not like her, and she was scared how he would react to such words of confession.

Najas shook her head. “You know this was always more to me than a worthy opponent,” she whispered. “it was more to me than a thrill – a rush of blood.” With her hands still wrapped around his neck, she looked up into those eyes that regarded her closely. “And if that’s all it is to you then I need you to say so.”

He was quiet for a long few heartbeats, his hands unmoving from her jaw and waist, his eyes unwavering from hers. She didn’t know what to expect – for him to agree and walk away? To pull his sword on her to finish their battle?

Zenos blinked several times. “I am unsure,” he admitted.

And for him… Najas felt her heart skip with relief and excitement. For someone like him that meant so much. It meant there _was_ something deeper to this for him. But he didn’t understand it yet. He had never experienced it before, never cared to.

Najas smiled and kissed him again. “If you ever pull that stunt again…” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll slit your throat.”

“Is that a promise?” He asked, smiling.

Najas resisted the urge to punch him.

*

“So… this is your home.”

Najas’s house, which she never thought small before, suddenly seemed so with the tall and broad man who stood beside her, seeming out of place in such a mundane setting. Her house had been big enough for all her previous needs. A kitchen and a lounge, her bedroom and bath upstairs, and her office, library and guest room in the basement.

He stepped further upon the hardwood floors, eying her modest taste. She thought she had done well for herself. The Warrior of Light wasn’t exactly _paid,_ so she had to earn her gil when she could. She always saved up and bought the highest quality she could.

But as she hadn’t expected any other visitors than Alisaie, her place was a bit of a mess. Used cookware still sat atop her stove, open books thrown on her couch from frustrated research, abandoned teacups and still-open bottles of wine that were surely rancid by now. The only welcome sight was Tad Cooper, her pet armadillo. Tad Cooper had been a gift from Alphinaud, who did not properly understand what Najas liked and had thought, in his wisest moment, that she would enjoy an armadillo.

He was _completely_ correct.

“Hey, Tad Cooper,’ she said, kneeling down to run a hand over his armoured back.

He released that strange noise from his throat that either signaled he was about to vomit or was happy. It was a panic-inducing sound.

Tad Cooper waddled off.

Zenos was still glancing about her place with mild interest, browsing her bookshelf. She was acutely aware that her entire house was the size of his bedroom back in Ala Mhigo. But godsdamn it, she paid for this entire place out of her own pocket and she was proud of it. _Especially_ Tad Cooper.

Najas _really_ hoped Alisaie didn’t decide on a drop-in right now.

She watched Zenos carefully as he lazily walked about her first floor, inspecting all he could, while she regarded the uniform of the man he possessed. It would catch a lot of eyes and was dangerous to wear. Yet, she wasn’t sure what he _could_ wear. She knew she couldn’t house arrest him, so to speak, he’d wander out regardless of the dangers. But he needed a disguise.

“I’m going to the market,” she said. “You’ll need some change of clothes. Stay here, make some tea if you like.”

“Make some tea…” he repeated.

Najas’s eyebrows raised. “Have you never made tea for yourself.”

“No.”

She supposed being born royalty that made sense, but she still frowned. “Then wait until I get back. I don’t want you burning down my house while I’m gone.” She paused. “Or at all.”

He looked up at the ceiling next, inspecting the chandelier. “I would have thought the Warrior of Light would have less… _modest_ accommodations.”

“I wasn’t offered a palace if that’s what your insinuating. Look just… don’t break anything. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Without waiting for a response, Najas turned and left her house, immediately heading for the market up the hill. She had been lucky enough to nab a decently sized house near the market and honestly wouldn’t have wanted much larger. She saw some of the mansions, and though many were gorgeous, Najas wouldn’t know what to do with all the space.

Most of her gil went into equipment up-keep anyway.

Obviously, nothing in Gridania was of Garlean or remotely Ilsabardan design, but Najas did her best in picking out things she thought he might like – or at least not to protest to. But she thought they both agreed any clothing was better than the horrendous common Grand Company uniforms.

She bought several outfits as well as more ingredients, as she knew she had now to cook for two. As she shopped, she noted her strange calmness at this whole situation. It didn’t quite feel real to her yet and she couldn’t place why.

For five minutes she glanced over parasols, wanting one but knowing of no practical use, and passed them by with a frown.

After roughly an hour, as she had predicted, Najas returned to her home with clothing and food, already thinking of what she should cook for breakfast. She pushed open the door, shoving it behind her with her foot, finding Zenos neither in the kitchen nor in her sitting area.

Pursing her lips, Najas set the groceries down and headed upstairs. She found him in her room, neither at her fireplace nor her desk, but laying in her bed, propped up by her pillows and reading one of her books.

“You’ve clearly made yourself comfort- Is that my diary?” She demanded, throwing her bags to the ground.

“I never thought a warrior could write with a such delicate hand. Yet I suppose swordplay is a graceful art of its own,” he commented without even looking up at her.

Najas snatched it from him, glad she hadn’t updated it since leaving Ishgard. Her cheeks heated at the mere thought of what he might have found within.

“I was reading that,” he lazily protested.

“Not anymore,” she declared, snapping it shut. Though there wasn’t necessarily anything _embarrassing_ in her diary, it revealed vulnerable parts of herself she wasn’t ready to reveal to him yet.

He had shrugged off the overcoat and boots and gloves, wearing just pants and a loose-fitted shirt which he didn’t even bother to button all the way, revealing tanned muscular skin beneath the white fabric.

Najas turned away from him to lock her book away where it belonged when his arms suddenly wrapped around her waist and pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bed, his chin resting on her shoulder.

He seemed bored.

“What?” She questioned, aware of her back pressed into his chest or the feeling of his hair as it cascaded over her arm.

“I thought our reunion would go much different,” he admitted. “It has been several long and _boring_ months. Months without the euphoric feeling you grant me when we dance.”

“You sought me out to fight me,” Najas stated, honestly not surprised.

“I did. But you managed to surprise me, my friend.” He spoke in a low voice. “Upon seeing you again I was… content… to not draw my blade against you. And when I saw the scars I left upon your skin…” He trailed off and smiled, pressing his lips over the scar over her eyebrow before pressing against the one on her lip. “There’s a joy. Different, but exciting.”

Najas’s face was turned to him, her lids lowered and lips parted slightly. His touch sent electricity through her skin. Not only a few days ago had she been shedding tears over his death, and yet… here he was.

She wasn’t angry anymore. She wasn’t sad or worried or guilty.

There were three words that were stuck in her throat as though she had lost her ability to speak. They tried to bubble up, but Najas was the once who forced them back down. She would not ruin this with her sentiments.

“Tell me about yourself,” he suddenly said, leaning back into some of her many pillows.

It caught her off guard. “What?”

“I know little about you besides you’re good with a sword. Indulge me.”

Najas blinked a few times, thinking, and lay down beside him, her mind wrapped up in thought. “Well… I’m an only child as far as I’m aware. I don’t know who my mother is, and… well, you know about my father and about Cato.” Her eyes cast away from his. “I enjoy cooking…” she said with more passion than her past statements. “I had to learn how to repair my own gear… My favourite colour is…” She looked back into his eyes. “Blue.” It hadn’t always been her favourite colour. “I used to sing. I used to love singing.”

“And what do you know of your mother?”

That was a question Najas had never been asked before. Either people didn’t care or they were too polite to ask. Najas tried to recall her father’s tales about her. “She was beautiful. She could put the stars to shame.” Najas suddenly frowned. She _did?_ Or she _used_ to? Was she still alive? Did she ever think of Najas? “My father loved her dearly. But she… well… I think she loved him… for a little while, at least.”

Najas had never felt so vulnerable in her life. She had never spoken of such personal things, even to the scions, and yet it felt so natural and easy telling them to Zenos, even after he had left her alone.

“What about you?” She dared to question in a quiet voice.

“She was beautiful,” he said with surprising softness. “I look more like her than I do my father. She was… kind. Oddly so. She died giving birth to my youngest sibling,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry,” Najas said.

He didn’t seem to care. “I don’t remember her much.”

“And your siblings?”

“Three brothers and two sisters. We never got along well.” Zenos didn’t seem to care, but that seemed sad to Najas.

“You’re the oldest?” She had to ask just to be sure, knowing Garlelean ascendancy didn’t always necessarily belong to the oldest. The emperor could choose any of his heirs to become next in line.

The realization suddenly sent her into a fit of laughter.

“What, pray tell, is your laughter for?”

Najas couldn’t help but to giggle. “What…” She had to gasp for breath. “What kind of kooks are your siblings if _you’re_ who Varis chose?” She suddenly burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Zenos showed no hint of his reaction, whether he be insulted or amused. He simply watched her outburst of giggles, the tears of laughter brought to her eyes as she wiped them away, apologizing.

“This is different,” he said.

Najas tilted her head to the side, still smiling. “What do you mean?”

“No one has been so… casual around me, before. Even my family. With Garleans it’s always so formal and with my enemies – well… I’m sure you understand.”

Najas, still smiling, tilted her head slightly. “And?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “Is it a good or bad different?”

He leaned forward, pressing her flat against the mattress. Any time before in Ala Mhigo, she would have burst in embarrassment, her cheeks blooming bright and her eyes wide. But now she was still smiling, too giddy to be anything but as she stared up at him, his long hair curtaining them from the rest of the world.

“You are different, too, my beast,” he said.

“I have everything to lose,” she whispered. “And I’ve never felt more alive.”

*

She talked a lot that night. She spoke until she was physically capable of no longer speaking, so she signed instead, holding up the entire conversation on her own as she spoke of things so inconsequential that she would not remember in the morning.

Najas eventually even spoke herself to sleep, curling up beside him, his arm draped over her, his chin resting atop her head, and before she fell into sleep, she thought this was the happiest she’d ever been in her life.


	14. Twelve Hours

_“Look at what you’ve done!”_

_A voice which she’d only ever known to be calm, if not sometimes loving, hissed the words with venom, the figure prowling towards her. The scent of smoke and ash and decay filled her nostrils and her eyes stung from a heaviness in the air. Behind her was a haunting chorus of cries and screams, ghosts of the soon-to-be-dead._

_“I didn’t know what else to do,” she begged. There were tears falling from her eyes, but was it from the smoke in the air, or something else?_

_She backed away from the figure angrily stalking towards her, her back pressing against the doors to the balcony, pushing them open as she stepped onto the terrace, the once muffled sounds now loud and clear._

_A black-gloved hand reached for her, gripping her by the back of the neck and spinning her to face the scene playing before her._

_She saw a beautiful city. Skyscrapers stretching up to the heavens, impossibly symmetrical and beautiful, the pinnacle of their architectural prowess. Those buildings were now crumbling into ruin, a sea of fire raging in the streets below. The entire city was ablaze and dark creatures roamed the skies – creatures she did not create, but ones born of fears and nightmares._

_Her hands raised to her mouth. Her entire body was trembling and her tears fell in a constant stream down her cheeks._

_The hand still gripped the back of her neck, tight enough to hurt but she did not complain._

_“Look at what you’ve done!” They screamed again._

_They pushed her against the railing, her gut pressed too hard against the curved stone, but she beheld the sight before her with wide eyes. The dead and the dying, the ruin and collapse._

_“I didn’t know what else to do,” she repeated with a sob._

_She saw a moth frantically flutter by, trying to escape the smoke and flame. With a cry she reached out for it, but it flew away from her._

_“You did this! You did this to us!”_

Najas awoke with a start and a scream that seemed to have caught in her throat before it ever sounded. The figure behind her awoke to her, their shrewd eyes opening to the light of the morning Gridanian sun.

Sensing another presence behind her, and fearing it the angry figure from her dream, Najas twisted, then audibly relaxed and slunk her shoulders when she realized it was just Zenos, a few strands of hair having fell in front of his face.

“You seem frightened,” he mused, a tone to his voice suggesting he was still tired.

Najas furrowed her brows, laying back down on her side of face him. “I’ve been having the strangest dreams lately,” she admitted. “They feel so real.”

Zenos slowly blinked several times, still rousing from his slumber. He reminded Najas of a sleepy lion. “What were you dreaming about?”

Najas suddenly frowned, finding memories of her dream fleeting, quickly flying away from her like a moth to the sun. “I… I’m not sure. There was a city of impossible architecture. Buildings that could scrape the sky. But it was on fire. And somehow I think it was my fault.”

“Mm,” he released a low rumble from his throat, the one that sent butterflies to her stomach for some reason. His strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer across the mattress. “Well, no such city has existed, nor has there been records of such a grand disaster.” His hand swept away the strands of hair from her face, but his eyes were on her neck – on the bite mark he had so graciously left her that night in the pond. There was a sudden excitement that sparked in his eyes. “So let’s chop it up to a vivid dream.”

Najas had vivid dreams before, but she always _knew_ they were dreams. This somehow felt different. But whatever protest she might have had was cut off the moment he pressed his lips to the under side of her jaw.

Closing her eyes, she exposed her neck to him, biting her lip when she felt his teeth scrape along her skin and when he stared nibbling at her ear. Her hand reached up to the side of his jaw, her body arching into him as he continued lower, his hands at her waist.

She turned her head to capture his lips in hers, her dream all but forgotten at this point.

Najas didn’t want to wait. Last time she had waited, they had been interrupted – but this time she had a blocker on her echo. This time the voice said nothing – no pain building in her skull as her rands reached beneath Zenos’s shirt, finding the smooth and muscular skin beneath the thin fabric.

He chuckled against her mouth and broke away to pull the shirt over his head, allowing Najas only seconds to glimpse his glorious form before he kissed her again. She ran her hands from his stomach up to his shoulders before winding them in his hair, biting her lip in excitement when his hands roamed beneath her shirt.

He moved his hands in slow, lazy strokes as he teased his way up her stomach and ribs. She tried to shift to get his hands on that place she wanted them, but he gripped her waist instead. “Don’t ruin my fun,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Najas already felt breathless, her core alight with fire, and a heat building between her legs. “I thought you liked a challenge,” she said back.

“This is a different hunt,” he told her, his hands moving up, taking her shirt with them. He knelt over her, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of her bare from the waist up. His head lowered, trailing kisses down her neck, his other hand moving to cup her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple until her his lips took it instead. Najas arched slightly as his tongue flicked, barely suprssing a cry as she threw her head back and closed her eyes, a hand still tangled in his hair.

He released her from his hands and his lips, though she protested, that protest was cut short when his lips moved lower and lower down her stomach until he pressed kissed at the band of her pants.

The heat between her legs was too much to ignore now as his hands slid down her legs, taking her pants with them, leaving only her smallclothes. Her chest heaved as he pressed kisses to her inner thighs, getting dangerously close to that place Najas wanted him the most.

He teased her, getting close, but never close enough, and any attempt she made at making him, he fought against her and won, chiding her for being so impatient. He removed her smallclothes then, standing fully to admire her beneath him.

“There’s my beast…’ Zenos said, hunger flickering in his eyes.

She watched as he removed his pants, , showing off his powerful and muscular form. The bare sight of him made Najas’s mouth dry as he climbed on top of her, his bare skin against hers.

Butterflies swelled within her chest as her lips found his, her mouth open to welcome his tongue which swept in, running along the roof of her mouth. His powerful hands gripped her hips, pressing her deeper into the mattress as his fingers trailed lower. He grinned devilishly at the wetness he found below, every smooth swipe of his fingers sending trembles shooting through her body.

He kissed her agains, this time slower, his hand coming back up to carress her jaw. And when he broke away they held each other’s gaze, Najas lost in the brilliant blue of his eyes as he slid himself into her. Deeper and deeper. She released a breath, her hand cupping the side of his face as he slowly pulled back then slid back into her, deeper than the first time.

He teased her again, a slow pull and push.

Najas closed her eyes to the extasy that slowly filled her body.

“Look at me,” Zenos commanded, sliding back into her.

Najas obeyed, but not for long as she leaned up to take his lips against hers. He didn’t protest, pushing her flat against the matress, his chest pressed against hers as he moved in time with her, his movement becoming quicker and quicker, the pressure building up within her core.

Zenos moaned against her ear as she wound her hands in his hair, wrapping her legs wround his waist, bucking her hips against his, willing him to go faster.

She came with a cry as he spent himself inside her, filling her with warmth. It felt like fireworks went off within her chest as she panted, immediately kissing him, their bodies trembling against the other.

They took a few moments to catch their breath before their eyes found each other again and they both grinned wickedly.

They weren’t done yet.

*

He had taken her several times more. Against the wall, where in their passionate fight, they had knocked down a few paintings and broken a few vases, from behind, and in his lap. Each time sent Najas into a new experience of euphoria and ecstasy as she’d never felt before.

Zenos was a selfish lover, dominating her to fit his desires, especially when she took him into her mouth. But she was not short on her own pleasures, and by the time they were both done, Najas lay panting and tired on the bed, tangled in him and the sheets.

He pressed lazy kisses to her skin now, his fingers wound in her hair which was a mess, his as well, from greedy fingers running through. There were many marks on her body now from his teeth, but Najas was proud to observe she’d left a few on him as well.

Najas liked his roughness, but she was also excited to see this softer side of him that kissed her gently, as though she were a delicate flower. Najas had never once felt delicate since she became the Warrior of Light, and when she had it had been with Cato. Not delicate – fragile. She hated the feeling. But this feeling… this was different. This kind of delicate felt good. It was a gentleness not in fear of breaking her, but because he wanted to.

She thought she could kiss him all day, and he seemed happy to provide. This was as much of an exciting hunt to him as actual hunting was, but as much as Najas wanted to steal away the hours hiding in her room with him, she knew she still had duties to fulfill as the Warrior of Light, and Zenos’s reappearance didn’t change that.

Eventually willing and forcing herself to untangle from him, Najas headed to her washroom to clean up with a quick hot bath, her first few steps fumbling, though she was loathe to remove the sensation of his touch and his scent from her skin.

When she came out, she found him gone from her room, having headed downstairs, his clothes picked up from her floor. Najas quickly got changed herself, She found him sitting at her table, half-interestedly reading a book pulled from her shelf. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the first few buttons undone.

He somehow understood that sight made her weak.

A cup of tea sat on the table before him and the kettle still appeared to be steaming. Walking over to the kettle and the tea that had been removed from the cupboard, Najas found it to be her most exotic and expensive tea from Illsabard. _Of course_ that’s the one he would choose.

She poured herself a cup and sat across from him, examining the novel. _The Colours From the Sky._ Najas couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

“What?” he questioned, his shrewd eyes even observing her expression from behind the book.

Najas took a pointed sip of her tea. “Reading my favourite book. Seems sentimental.”

“I simply wondered what was so special to make it your favourite,” he commented, seeming unbothered by her comment.

“Well, how are you finding it?”

“The concept is creative, but the writing itself is lacking. I find myself disinterested in twelve pages of explanation as to why the secretary is unable to come into work.”

“Its because she got eaten.”

“Yes, I established that.”

Najas grinned. In honesty, that was her favourite part. It was the first time the eldritch being made appearance, even if only by second-hand of a boss describing how a well-mannered secretary suddenly went mad before disappearing – only her ring left behind as evidence.

“It gets bloody soon, so don’t worry,” she assured him.

She took another sip of her tea, gently setting it on the table when she found a strange sensation wash over her. Her arms were covered by long robes as she placed a tea of unknown scent down on a long oval wooden table, thirteen other people gathered around her – all discussing and drinking different things. Across from her sat the man that made her happy, distracted by a book she had made him read.

The feeling and vision was gone as soon as it came, but disoriented Najas none the less, causing her to sit up straighter and blink several times as though to clear her mind. When she looked over at Zenos, she almost, for a split second, expected it to be someone else.

Who else could she have expected?

A knock coming from her front door snapped Najas back to reality, and she didn’t think anything of it until she exchanged glances with the man who sat at her table, and Najas suddenly went pale. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere.

The door opened.

Najas had told Alisaie she could just walk in whenever she wanted. Najas had never thought to be in such a compromised position.

She had already stood from the table and was power walking towards her, gently grabbing her upper arm and swinging her back outside before Alisaie’s temper decided attacking was the best course of action.

Najas closed the door behind them, running her fingers through her hair as she took a deep breath, wondering how she was going to explain this. Alisaie simply crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

“How long has he been here?” Alisaie questioned. “How is he _here_ when theres reports of him in Garlemald?” She demanded.

Najas took a few more moments to compose herself. ‘ _I found him last night. Or… he found me,’_ she started signing. ‘ _I thought he was dead – I thought that bastard Ascian possessed his body – and he has.’_

“Najas-“

“I think he’s like an Ascian.”

Her words silenced Alisaie quickly. The truth was, Najas had put a lot of thought into what was happening. She’d accept it, but she was also going to find her explanation for the crazy situation she found herself in.

‘ _His experiments with the echo – I think it granted him immortality. In a way. He can die – but like an Ascian he’ll just come right back. I think he would have woken back in his own body had Elidibus not possessed it.’_

Alisaie took a deep breath, her arms still crossed, and had to take several steps around Najas’s garden to clear her mind. “Najas…”

Najas gripped Alisaie’s shoulders, her eyes pleading. “Please, Alisaie… You can’t tell the others,” She hated how her voice croaked at the thought. “I’m happy.”

Alisaie’s eyes cast back to her door, as though she could see through it to the man sitting within. “Najas…” She repeated, her mind at war with itself. “This is huge… This isn’t an easy secret to keep, and it could be damaging. Hydaelyn…. This could go _so_ wrong.”

“I know…” Najas said. “I know…” She closed her eyes, released a deep breath, and let her arms fall from Alisaie’s shoulders. ‘ _But I don’t know what to do. When I found out he was alive I…’_ Her hands faltered, unable to describe the joy she’d felt for the past twelve hours. ‘ _If Lyse finds out she’ll have him executed or thrown in prison, and I know that’s probably what he deserves but I can’t bear it.’_

Alisaie was staring at Najas, her eyes surprisingly filled with understand. “I remember that afternoon in the menagerie, Najas. I can’t say I understand it but… I don’t want to see you like that again. Everyone was worried about you. But…” She released another huff. “How are you going to keep this secret? A Garlean walking around Eorzea is a big deal, especially when it’s the Crown Prince, whose supposed to be half way around the world. And no, he won’t just stay in your house he’ll get bored. I’m surprised he hasn’t already wandered off to torment the locals.”

Najas gave her a look, even though she was probably right.

“What are you going to do with him? He’s not a pet you can just hide away.”

“I don’t know!” Najas exclaimed, exasperated. She hadn’t thought past this point.

“I want to talk to him.” Alisaie stated.

Najas didn’t know if that was a good idea, but Alisaie was already marching toward her front door. When Najas made to come inside with her, Alisaie held up her hand to stop her, then closed the door in her face. Najas had never been so affronted, but sighed and sat on the bench overlooking her pond.

She impatiently waited for twenty minutes, keeping her ears out for the sound of fighting in case one tried to murder the other, but found it suspiciously quiet. She couldn’t imagine what sort of conversation they were having, as Zenos was especially prone to disregarding conversations he had no interest in.

Alisaie remerged almost a half hour later, looking none the worse for ware, her lips pursed in thought. “I will keep your secret, Najas,” she decided. “But I still think this is a bad idea. He gives me the heebie-jeevies.”

Najas couldn’t help but laugh at that. True, his personality wasn’t the most _common,_ but Najas didn’t think she’d like him any other way.

Alisaie hugged Najas as she thanked her, planting a kiss on the top of her small head and wished her well before she teleported away back to Ala Mhigo and whatever business was going on there.

Najas entered her home, half expecting it to be in disarray, but it seemed, despite all odds, Zenos and Alisaie had a polite conversation, though about _what_ , Najas wished she knew.

Zenos was still sipping at his tea, still reading the book with vague interest. “I like her,” he said as she sat back down, trying to assess the situation. “She is brash and blunt. Very few people are these days.”

“What did you talk about?” Najas cautiously questioned.

He looked up at her from his book, his eyes glinting mischievously in a way that made her nervous. “It’s a secret.”

“Nor do you like surprises. Indeed, it seems the list of things you dislike only grows.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He considered her for a moment before setting his book down. “I would say there are a many great things I enjoy. And what I _do_ take pleasure in, I take _great_ pleasure in.”

Indeed, he had proven that just this morning. Najas felt those butterflies just thinking about it.

She was about to respond when a bout of pain suddenly washed over her. Najas gripped her head as her echo activated, expecting a vision of Alisaie, or perhaps that strange voice that had been speaking to her. She heard a voice, but it was different. It was muffled and distant, as though trying to communicate through a linkshell in a deadzone.

She grit her teeth, her eyes narrowed as she looked up, finding Zenos had brought a hand to his head and seemed to be in pain as well.

_Throw……Gates…._

_Gates…_

_Wide…._

Then it subsided as quickly as it came as Najas was left feeling dizzy.

She looked up. “Did you hear that?” She demanded. She’d never shared an echo with anyone before.

“I did,” he said.

A feeling of dread settled within Najas.

Something was horribly wrong.


	15. Homeward Bound

After the incident a few nights ago, Najas had gone to Ala Mhigo to speak with Fordola in prison, wondering if others possessing of the echo had heard the strange voice and felt the same pain. However, Fordola was difficult to speak with, and even after Najas finally pried her answer from the woman, which had been a firm ‘no’, Najas was left just as clueless as before.

She was starting to get tired of people using her echo to speak with her.

Najas had disclosed this to Alisaie, though had held off a few days in case it turned out to be nothing, but she never could keep secrets from her for long. It was also becoming harder for her to separate dream from reality, which was causing Alisaie worry. She tried to convince Najas to go to Y’shtola, but Najas knew they had enough to deal with without worrying about the Warrior of Light’s mental health. Still, Najas promised Alisaie she’d consider it.

Lately she’d been dreaming of a large and lonely house. An empty garden. A forgotten person waiting alone. She hadn’t read _I’ve Always Been Here_ in a long while, but her mind seemed determined to recreate the novel. It somehow all felt so vivid and real – not like dreams, but more akin to memories.

However, with most of her days being kept busy by the Scions and her Garlean Secret, Najas had very little time to worry or ponder. If she wasn’t doing her usual duties, she was off in the deepest depths of the forests hunting horrors with Zenos.

Whether or not he liked it, he was actually making Gridania a safer path to travel. Though she didn’t think he cared regardless of the outcomes of his actions. He was purely selfish, and, for some reason, it was a quality she liked about him. She wasn’t sure if she’d like him if he _wasn’t_ so selfish.

It had been tricky, at first, to get him out of the house without everyone in a three yalm radius recognizing him, but as Alisaie had pointed out, not many Eorzeans knew his face – it was his armour that they knew. And though he had a third eye, a simple trick with a circlet to make it look as though it were part of the adornment allowed him to walk around freely without anyone casting him second glances – at least not for being Garlean. Though the body he possessed was not currently his own, he was still rather tall and had a presence that took up most spaces.

Najas was falling into a strange mundane routine with him – one she never thought possible. She even dragged him out with her on simple errands, which he allowed her, but only with the promise of a sparring match afterwards. He usually accompanied her on grocery trips and simple errands to the market, where he paid closer attention than Najas gave him credit for, and afterwards they’d spar in the basement.

At first they would practice in the yard, but their battles usually got too out of hand – a few namely where, one, Zenos sent her over the cliff back-drop of her yard and she plunged into the waters below. Another where she had blasted her neighbor’s signpost right off their lawn, and another match where they somehow found themselves on the roof, their scuffle sending her shingles flying in a deathly rain around her home.

Now they sparred in the basement where their battles were more contained.

Najas won some, Zenos won others, but mostly they were evenly matched and would only end when either grew too exhausted to continue, or when they would bring their match up to the bedroom instead.

Alisaie had kept Najas’s secret, like she had promised, and Najas was eternally grateful, even though she knew it couldn’t be a secret forever. One way or another, the truth would come out. However Najas’s problems just seemed to be piling up. On an Alphinaud-suggested mission to make diplomacy with Garlemald, a good-faith prisoner exchange was offered, but the emissary that came to meet them… he seemed well enough, but there was something about him that Najas found off.

He was the brother of Yotsuyu, who turned out to be very much alive, albeit with a severe case of memory loss and eventually it was agreed that Yotsuyu would remain with the Alliance unless she were to recover her memories, then she would be turned over to the Garleans.

The boy, probably half of Yotsuyu’s own age, absolutely gave Najas the heebie-jeebies. He creeped her out on a level that no manner of voidsent, undead or grotesque abominations could. There was nothing she could pin against him and yet there was something _off_ about Asahi. She didn’t trust him, even more-so than the general distrust of Garleans. He was a schemer. She could feel it.

Of course, her feelings about him turned out to be all-too true, but she was too late to prove them. Next thing Najas knew, Yotsuyu regained her memories by tricks Asahi had played and she transformed into a primal – a vicious battle that Najas quickly found herself thrown into without any support. After finally managing to best the new Eikon, Yotsuyu returned to her Hyur form, and both siblings ended up offing the other, leaving their corpses bleeding on the bridge of a Garlean airship.

With the whole mess sorted out, Alphinaud left with the more trustworthy Garlean militant members for his diplomacy mission to the heart of the empire, and Najas returned home to destress from the entire situation.

Now she was sitting in her tub, Tad Cooper delicately laying on the edge, picking at some grubs Najas had gotten for him while she herself nipped at her old favourite and extremely hard to come by liquor named the Emperor’s Knickers.

Her jukebox was on full blast, blaring some duskwight artist, lights off and all candles lit and staring at her ceiling as she lowly got lost in the ceiling pattern.

It wasn’t long before she heard the jukebox shut off and the door to the bathroom opened.

“What are you doing?”

“relaxing in the bath,” Najas answered.

Zenos gave her an almost incredulous look. “There’s no water and you’re fully clothed.”

Najas took another sip of her drink. “Your point?”

“Perhaps I am wondering if my beast knows the fundamentals of basic hygiene.”

Najas snorted in amusement. Relaxing in an empty bathtub was an old getaway habit from when she was a child. The only lockable doors were the bathrooms and her father’s study, so she used to steal away with snacks until she felt like facing the world again.

“My last few days have been crazy,” she said. Finally inclining her head to look up at her partner, she pursed her lips. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm…” She felt his hand brush away a lock of her hair from her forehead. “You’re injured.”

Najas took another sip. “I am de-stressing. Because, like I said, it’s been a rough few days. Alphinaud had an idea which in theory seemed great until I met the little twerp the plan involved – whom by the way was crazy obsessive over you. Pretty sure he had fantasies and everything. Next thing I know I’m fighting an Eikon _he_ summoned, and I didn’t even get to wring his neck myself because Yotsuyu got to stab him instead. And then he shot her. And I didn’t get to punch anyone,” she complained.

He allowed her lock of hair to fall back into place, obscuring the injury she obtained when she found out the hard way that, yes, Yotsuyu’s fan _was_ a weapon and that yes, it was also _very_ sharp.

“You’re drunk,” he commented when she downed another mouthful.

Najas screwed up her face. It was a sipping whiskey, but that wasn’t stopping her from ignoring the burning sensation and chugging it. “So? I should think I’m allowed to. Unless my occupation requires me to be alert and aware at all hours. It does. But who cares?”

Her partner tilted his head to the side, briefly inspecting Tad Cooper, who was still happily munching away, then sighed. “Alright. It’s your bedtime.”

Before Najas could protest, he slunk his arms under her knees and arms and lifted her from the tub, forcing her to leave her drink and bottle behind. She only protested with a slight mumble, any effort she might have put in lost amidst the sea of drowsiness she felt.

“How strangely caring of you,” she commented as he put her down on the bed. “My unexpected knight in shining armour.”

“Well, you are of no use to anyone while intoxicated. I doubt you could even hold your sword now if your life depended on it.”

Najas frowned. Warrior of Light duties were the last thing she wanted to think of right now. He made to move away from her, but she grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What do you want?” He questioned.

“Tad Cooper can’t cuddle.”

The look in his eye suggested he would rather do anything _but,_ but her persistent ways won and he lay down beside her, though he did not slide under the covers with her. She hooked an arm over his waist and rested her head on his chest, listening to the beating heart within. She didn’t know why, but she found herself fascinated by the rhythmic sound.

She knew he was just waiting for her to fall into sleep so that he could slink off and do whatever, but Najas’s eyes were wide open, her mind clouded with thoughts and worries. Not only were Warrior of Light duties running her into the ground, but now her personal life was swinging the hammer at the nail.

“I want to quit,” she told him.

Zenos didn’t say anything, but she could perceive the raised eyebrow of his response.

“Being the Warrior of Light.”

“No, you don’t.” It didn’t sound like he was trying to convince her, but that it was matter-of-fact.

“I do,” she clarified.

“No, because the next time your little Scion friends are at the door needing something you won’t even hesitate to help. You can’t turn your back on people. You’re kind.”

“Then teach me to be selfish.” Najas furrowed her brows, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m tired. I’m so tired of it all.” She raised her head to meet his blue eyes, her angered frown melting into something sadder. “What if I accepted your offer?”

It took him a second to realize what she meant, but once he did, his response was a short chuckle. “It is a bit late for that. Plus…” he looked up at the ceiling, supporting an arm behind his head. “I couldn’t care less for Garlemald – or anywhere else.”

Her gaze faltered. Yes… she recalled him saying something similar during their battle at the menagerie. She rested her head down. She also supposed he was right about the Scions. As much as this life was wearing on her she could never turn her back on her friends.

Especially not since… not since he had abandoned her once before. That was another fear that plagued at her mind. He was content now, but what would he do once he grew bored? Would he abandon her again? Leave to find something more thrilling once she became routine to him? She didn’t think she could bear it a second time, not with the way her feelings for him had intensified.

Najas closed her eyes and breathed out a deep sigh, wishing these thoughts that plagued her mind would leave her be. Her mind and heart were at war with each other. One was calculated, intelligent, and calm. The other yearned for love and acceptance through whatever means.

She closed her eyes, but she did not sleep. She was aware of every stir – every shifting muscle her partner made, until she could hear and feel the steady breathing of a man deep in sleep. Najas propped herself up on her elbows, looking over to make sure her movements hadn’t woken him, then slowly slid off the bed and crept out of the room. She donned her heaviest coat with the fur collar and pulled on a thick pair of winter boots.

There was a small aetherite near a cliff that overlooked Ishgard. It belonged to a small town that hadn’t much consequence. Near it was an old but wealthy and well-kept cemetery where Najas had commissioned a mausoleum with a singular, empty coffin. The Garleans did not use aether, and as Najas was exiled from Illsabard and could not visit her father’s grave, she made one.

Ishgardian air was harsh and brisk, and her cheeks bloomed at the first gust of cold wind. Najas trudged through the snow until she reached the beaten path, the snow packed down from dozens of feet stomping across it.

She had her hood up so none recognized her. It was the last thing she wanted right now.

The cemetery was tall and gothic – a wrought iron fence surrounding the perimeter, though Najas had never seen the gate locked. The monuments were large, most carved with guardian or weeping angels or passing bells. Some were tall crosses carved with intricate patterns or wrapped with red ribbons. Snow gently dusted the tops of all the carvings.

“Hello, Papan,” Najas said, stopping several yards from the mausoleum.

It was its own private lot, wrapped with its own fence with its own special caretaker that Najas paid generously. If she could not visit her father’s true grave, this would have to do.

The caretaker was true – having already swept the cold stone stairs of the recent snowfall and cleared icicles from the overhanging roof. The lanterns on the outside had been lit with new candles, and he had even replaced the one loose stone in the wall.

Her heart felt heavy as she stared at the slim stone coffin that lay within. The grief of losing her father never quit went away – it just didn’t hurt as much anymore. At least sometimes. The last time she had visited her fathers grave was before she had gone to Ala Mhigo to aid the rebellion. It had been far too long.

She offered a small smile, unsure herself if it was empty or not. “Papan…” she slowly started. Her fingers graved over the smooth stone that made up the lid of the empty coffin. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve visited. Your little rabbit has been busy.” Her smile widened at the nickname he used to call her. From others it was demeaning but from her father it was loving. She spent the next dozen minutes of telling him about her recent adventures – of all the allies lost and gained, her trials and tribulations. She paused when she reached her tale of Zenos. “I don’t know if you’d like him,” she admitted with a small chuckle. “You never liked Cato – and you were right about him.” With a huff, she blew a strand of hair out of her face and sat on the floor, leaning her back against the stone. “But I really love him, Papan. Of course… I can’t really tell him that…”

For a reason she could not comprehend, she waited. She waited for an answer.

She waited for an answer from her father – to tell her all the wisdom he used to when she was younger. But her father was dead, and Najas was met with only silence.

“I can’t tell him,” Najas started, “because he’s not like you or me. He’s… emotionally stunted, for lack of a better term,” she laughed. “Oh, but Papan, he makes my heart warm. I smile when I see him. And his eyes… oh Papan, his eyes are so beautiful. And don’t get me started on his hair. I know you were proud of your glorious locks, but I dare to say his puts yours to shame! And his nose! I love his nose! Is that weird, Papan? To like someone’s nose?” She leaned her head back and smiled. “He doesn’t care what other people think of him. Child-me could have learned a thing or two from him.” She sighed a happy sigh. “He makes me happy.” Her smile only lasted a few seconds, though, soon melting into a frown. “But he’s very selfish. Not in a charming or loving way. Sometimes… sometimes I’m scared he doesn’t care about me, Papan. Sometimes I’m scared I’m only something keeping him from boredom, and – and…. And when he gets bored of me…” When did her eyes get so wet? Najas blinked quickly, unable to help the sniffle that followed. “I’m scared he’ll leave me again. I don’t think I could bear it a second time.”

Again she waited for her father’s wisdom.

Again she was met with silence.

“I don’t know what to do, Papan. I love him, and yet he is one of our greatest enemies. I love him and I fear he does not love me.”

She sighed and hung her head.

Would it be better to end it now before she was in too deep and got hurt too hard? Was she already in too deep? Her father always had the right thing to say, but now Najas was alone. She had hoped that even though he was gone, just visiting his grave would gift her with a burst of wisdom. But this empty mausoleum was just that – an empty mausoleum.

She sat there for a long time, numb to even the icy wind, her mind blank as she stared at the bare stone wall before her. Snow drifted in through the open doors, its piling flakes the only monument to the time Najas spent inside.

_Are you suffering alone, again?_

Najas started, but then quickly settled back down. “Why do you care?”

_You used to say the whole world is a veritable asylum for those who dare have any feelings left._

“I don’t understand what that means.”

_You will._

She waited for the voice to say anything else, but he seemed to like being a cryptic shithead. Sighing, Najas finally decided to stand, her cold and stiff joints aching in protest from the movement. She left and shut the doors to the mausoleum before teleporting back to her home in the Lavender Beds.

It was pitch dark when she arrived – she didn’t think it had been _that_ long, but looking at the mounted clock she found it was three in the morning. She was quiet as she entered her home, carelessly kicking off her boots and shrugging her coat to the floor. She hadn’t exerted that much energy since she last rested, but she found each step heavier than the last.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness half way up the stairs. She found Zenos had not moved from the spot she left him in. For a solid minute Najas stood in place simply watching. There was something about seeing him in such a vulnerable state that made him seem so much more human. That he was not an unfeeling war machine, but a complex creature just like everyone else. She had gone to her father for answers, but maybe her answer was here.

She gently sat on the bed beside him, watching the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest – the peace and content on his face.

As she lay down beside him, she brushed a loose strand of hair from his face. He stirred, but not enough to wake, turning on his side toward her.

Najas couldn’t help but smile.

‘ _Oh, Papan…’_ she thought. _‘if only you knew how deep in I am.’_

With a smile still on her lips, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of his neck, losing herself to sleep in his strong arms.

If anything ever changed, the she’d deal with it. She was content now and didn’t see a reason to ruin it by worrying about _if’s_ and _maybe’s_. For now, he was hers. For now, she could live with that. She could be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that its been so long since I last updated! Things have calmed down now so hopefully I'll be able to update more, especially now that we're getting closer to the shadowbringers plot. I have a lot of ideas in mind and im super excited to share them with you all. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry that it's short.


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